My Seedy Affair

If there’s one thing I can grow — on purpose or not — it’s butternut squash.

Come to think of it, I’ve never grown one on purpose.

About twelve years ago, my little sis jumped on the vermicompost train while living in Chicago, a curious endeavor seeing as I can’t remember her ever having a garden of any sort. Since it sounded kinda hippy-dippy and involved bringing worms into my house for free and with a purpose (what we found on the back porch when we moved in is a story for another time), I thought, “Cool!” Hence, my vermicomposting began and continues to this day.

I mean, I think it has; I haven’t checked the bin in a couple of weeks, so they might have all kicked the bucket/Rubbermaid bin/what have you.

As with all things, my Earth-friendly endeavors are anything but consistent, yet the refuse of at least one butternut squash always makes it into that bin. Since I’m way too cheap to buy fertilizer or even enriched soil, at least a few seeds always make it into the garden, and by August, the only thing thriving are the ten butternut squash that have taken over the garden in a barrage of foliage.

Yes, I know I could make the blossoms into some lovely treat, but, really? My kids go through thirty-two muffins in sixteen hours, ain’t no way I’m frying up five battered blossoms.

Here’s the best part of the butternut saga, though. While my garden is an unholy mess, my neighbor’s yard is really nice. I mean, he mulches, buys flowers, hangs baskets, and doesn’t separate all his hostas as soon as they spring up to avoid going to the store. He also gets a kick out of my ongoing gardening war, which inevitably involves a lot of swearing and some crying EVERY SINGLE YEAR.

One day, he yells over to me, “Hey! Is this what I think it is?”

Sure enough, after two years of a squash-less yard (I put the gardening on hiatus, because inevitable disappointment every summer isn’t the best prescription for someone with clinical depression), he had not one, not two, but three butternut squash plants sprouting in various parts of his yard.

By August, there were squash growing over walls, through the hostas, over the mulch, everywhere!

Neither of us could explain it, but we all ate well.

PS I might have butternut-bombed my other neighbor’s yard, but I doubt she’ll notice seeing as she refuses to mow or trim any of her yard bordering mine. At least I might get something good out of that mess, since all I’ve got now is a re-invasion of poison ivy.