There’s just something about a perfect pumpkin sitting on the front stoop this time of year. I found one I couldn’t resist at a new truck farm nearby. It’s called “Grove City Gardens,” and it’s located on a country road that winds through flood irrigated pastures that, regrettably, are more and more turning into houses.
This garden makes good use of a proposed subdivision that is waiting out the recession. The corn and pumpkins, peppers and melons, wind around a paved culdesac. What was intended for housing has made a perfect access and parking for “whole food” customers. Growing food will always win out in my mind when contemplating what to do with open ground. I hear that big cities are discovering the same thing.
I came to get freezing corn – and one dozen just to eat. The proprietor recommended a white/yellow variety - luscious long ears that snapped firmly from the stalk. I enjoyed gathering up seven dozen and then walked through the rest of his wares. Cantaloupe and watermelon had been frosted just a little. Nothing like cantaloupe fresh off the vine. The cucumbers were past now, but the peppers hung in bright red and green holiday colors. Several rows of feathery asparagus spoke of next spring’s harvest - and beyond that the raspberry patch.
I marvel at the work put in to the garden. Drip lines coursed throughout, and they even had light fabric rolled up at the end of some of the rows with brick weights on it, a frost precaution that was used last week.
And then I spied the pumpkins. The frost had dampened the enthusiasm of the vines, so I could see the fruit exposed in their brilliant fall glory – the spicy orange that defines the season. The little gal that checked me out figured my selection was a 30 pounder, but I’m guessing it was more.
Now as I write, the corn is shucked and the water is on to boil. Time to bring in the harvest.