I reserve one of my planting beds, a pear-shaped plot near the patio/terrace, for experimenting.
Last spring I planted a pumpkin seed. As its tendrils sprouted and grew longer, I carefully pulled them over the wall and trained them to grow on a piece of wire fencing. Watered lavishly the vine grew and grew, producing enormous, irregularly heart-shaped leaves. Soon equally big and beautiful flowers appeared, looking like yellow, five-petaled lilies.
Both male and female blossoms grow on the same stem, but pumpkins prefer not to pollinate themselves. Blossoms can be distinguished from one another even when buds, for the female carries the embryonic pumpkin at its base, in the form of a swollen bulb. Using a new, camel’s-hair brush I transferred a few grains of pollen to the female’s pistil. The baby pumpkin did remain after the blossom fell, growing to the size of a large egg, but it soon turned yellow, shriveled and fell off.
Humans amaze me. Here in Missouri, where farmers grow pumpkins in cornfields, a neighbor exclaimed over my vine and asked what it was.
by L Ferguson
