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The Tampa Tribune

Published: May 21, 2008

Great gourds! Tom Jackson, the Trib's Pasco columnist, may have a bona fide miracle in the making. We figured we better share it quick, before it shrivels on the vine. He writes:

Do not be fooled by the abundance of pumpkinseed packets appearing these days on rotating displays at the local garden center. Growing a carving-worthy gourd on schedule for Halloween requires starting vines between Flag Day and Independence Day, but as any self-respecting county extension agent will tell you, Florida summers are where pumpkin vines go to die.

Which explains my mixed emotions attending the horticultural phenomenon unfolding in my Tampa Palms backyard: Some six months after squirrels cleaned out the last of the Chuckanut Backyard Wildlife mix (pumpkinseeds, peanuts, sunflower seeds, corn, hazelnuts) I'd set out to distract them from my bird feeders (yeah, right), a single, spectacular and completely volunteer pumpkin plant emerged from the fringe of the blue plumbago bed, sending vines sprouting broad, heart-shaped leaves, tendrils and fat yellow flowers to sprawl across a would-be rose garden.

It is almost certainly doomed, but five weeks after I noticed its debut, my conscience won't allow me to disclose to the plant its likely prognosis. Instead, I praise its optimism, compliment its structure, praise it for aggressively setting 10 - count 'em 10!! - little green fruits.

Now, my experience as an agronomist being mixed, at best, I was tempted to leave well enough alone. After all, the seed that produced it got buried on its own, hibernated through the winter on its own and germinated on its own. Intervention by a mediocre cultivator may do more harm than good.

Well, call me reckless. I can no more fail to assist, with prescribed doses of water, soluble fertilizer, fungicide and insecticide, than I could ignore an injured bird.

So far, the plant seems no worse for my attention. It behaves as though it popped up in the middle of Illinois, the capital of pumpkin growing in the United States, thriving in our dry season with its still-cool nights and low humidity. Like pumpkin vines planted in the encouraging North, the plant in my care is racing across the ground, adding a half-foot or more every day, popping new blossoms and setting new fruits.

But June looms. Wish us luck.

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