Wednesday, August 19, 2009

Purple Pumpkin Eater

Last Halloween, Jon and I made a trek to Union County in order to answer his charge of indecent exposure (yep. he was charged with indecent exposure. because he pee peed. in the woods. on a kayaking trip. srsly. i think it may have had something to do with his rainbow flag and his obama stickers.) On our way outta Dodge, we stopped at a little roadside flea market because they had pumpkins of shapes and sizes that we had never seen.

Jon fell in love with some bright orange minis, and I became attached to some almost pastel orange ones that looked like they had been covered with a light dusting of flour. We snatched them up at two bucks apeice and were happy to not buy big orange overpriced Californian balls from Kroger. (yay! local!)

When I asked the farmer, who's English delivery bordered on deliverance, "What kind of pumpkin is this?" He looked at me like I was crazy, "The old-timey kind. That you eat. That kind." Ahem. And Q and A session was over.

I loved her fat nubbly self so much that I couldn't bear to carve her, nor cook her, nor even move here. So there she was, all winter, getting mushier and mushier, until she had to be removed with a shovel. I saved a handful of seeds with the luscious idea of growing my own old-timeys.

In the meantime, the heirloom seed research begain. And well, she's french. The pumpkin was a musque de provence, and is the model pumpkin for fairytale drawings and old postcards and Halloween decor from the thirties...

I started the seed early spring, and FAIL. I got one sad little start, when suddenly, a monster appeared next to my porch where she passed on. This plant has slowly begun to devour my front yard and house (no, I won't cut it back) and blooms like mad (I may just start frying the blooms) and the one little start is only about three feet long.

But she's got one good size pumpkin on her, and several small ones. We should be eating pumpkin all winter. And avoiding the bright orange overpriced Californian balls that Kroger calls pumpkins this Halloween.

Here's my pride and joy. This pic is a couple of days old and she has grown lots in this rain.

And here's the mother of all french pumpkins! (It too, is bigger now.) If you don't see me for awhile, you should come check the house to see if I can get out.

1 comment:

  1. great entry. the the question is: will you love the babies so much that, like the Mother, they become objects of love and endearment OVER supper? XOXO

    p.s. yes, need to work on the wedding net and JAM...the berries are looking withered.