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Pumpkin Squatter

July 20, 2010

 Down the road a step, Alex’s vine has already started sprouting pumpkins. Ours trails out of a two foot container housing an ornamental twisty evergreen and spilled onto the ground, the vines half an inch thick and heavy with all of the watering. They faithfully sprout beautiful orange blossoms, butting their roots against the walls that contain them in their quest for pumpkinhood to no avail.

It’s just not happening.

We first noticed the pumpkin shoots sprouting up from the container in the spring, and thought it a weed. I plucked it, several times, in fact, but it kept returning. It was then I remembered the November storm that had tossed the pot to the patio atop the three pumpkins from October, already fairly well on their way to rottenness but still looking okay. The tree decimated them. Smashed them to pumpkin bits and pieces. I swept the tree, the dirt, and it seems, some pumpkin bits and pieces back into the pot and cleaned the mess as best I could.

In the spring, those pumpkin bits and pieces sprouted. I am pumpkin, hear me roar.

I now have a pumpkin squatter that refuses to sprout pumpkins. To my way of thinking, if you’re going to squat uninvited in someone else’s territory (read: the evergreen’s pot), you should at least pay rent with pumpkins. This is completely unacceptable. Therefore, today the pumpkin is being evicted.

I don’t want to perpetuate the cause of homeless pumpkins, so I did look into housing. I dug a hole (in sandals, no less, ‘cause that’s just how I roll) in this lovely red dirt, all by myself, because my husband was not around was busy making a living. Just so you know, I despise digging holes. Deeply. Despise. It may have something to do with the sandals, but it’s more likely the fact that a hole takes me ten or fifteen minutes to dig, whereas it takes Duane once, twice, thrice, and four strikes with the shovel, clear the dirt, and yep, he’s done. That’s it. It’s like…sixty seconds. I’m sure it’s all those studly farm boy muscles or something, or the proper work boots, because I do have fairly nice muscles in my upper arms…at least, they were great for hefting the kids when they were little, and they’re awesome for a mean volleyball serve, and I can lift furniture, even…but digging a freaking hole? No, thank you. I.hate.digging.

Anyway. It’s insulting.

But I dug a hole anyway, because I didn’t want the pumpkin to be homeless. And then I filled the hole with water, because it’s hot outside, and filling it water does something magical like drawing water down to the roots or something like that.

And then came the fun part: pumpkin and tree root wrestling. I dumped the tree out on the ground, and wrestled with root separation for, like, an hour.  At one time, I debated planting the ornamental twisty evergreen with the pumpkin, but I decided that that was just screwed up, and I continued to root wrestle. And I won.

And then I planted the stupid thing.

And now I’m just praying that all that work was not for nothing, and that my pumpkin decides that it likes red dirt and wide open spaces.

5 Comments leave one →
  1. July 20, 2010 11:27 am

    The toe color is fabulous by the way……. Oh! I”m sorry. Were we talking about pumpkins? Sorry, I got distracted. I was totally focused on the toe color and was squatting down to take a closer look. Thanks for putting me in my place. That was rude of me wasn’t it!

    Here’s to better pumpkin growing luck than we’ve had over the past few years…… The Native’s keep pulling all of ours up when they weed. Those and the melons……

  2. July 20, 2010 6:07 pm

    This is quite a complicated vegetation situation you have going on here. So glad you thought of a solution and went with it, even with the hubs away. As one of my exes always said, “You’re a smart girl. You’ll figure it out…” I guess here you could also say, “You’re a strong girl, you’ll figure it out.” And then she did. Well done. I can’t wait to hear how it goes!

  3. July 20, 2010 6:38 pm

    Love pumpkins. They remind me of that wonderful holiday. Glad to hear that you opted to transplant rather than destroy.

  4. July 21, 2010 9:17 am

    LOL. i was also preoccupied with the toes. very cute toes! i love how much you hate digging. because i hate digging. i would rather hike up a mountain than dig a darn hole in the ground!

    good on ya mate. now. grow pumpkin. grow! 🙂

  5. Lori permalink*
    July 21, 2010 3:14 pm

    Rach and Misty–I’m glad that I didn’t get close enough with the camera for you to see that the color is sort of chipping away at the edges. Pedicures don’t last very long with me–probably has something to do with wearing sandals while digging. But thank you! It’s Opi, a pretty bright pink w/out a name–part of a trio of samples I bought last summer. 😉

    And I’m going to need some pumpkin luck…wish it my way, would ya? This thing is looking puny.

    Leslie–ah.Pumpkin drama. The vines split (except for two), and the pumpkin lay limp and exhausted along the ground. Really, if I’m being honest, more dead than exhausted. Except for two vines. I’m counting on those two vines. We’ll have to see.

    Jason–My fingers are crossed. I’m praying for pumpkins—ones I have grown instead of bought. On the grand scale of things–so small. On the Lori scale of things–huge. 😉

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