Rho, Rho, Rho in the Wishetwurra Garden

Looking East, through the winter squash patch.

Late last spring, the far southern section of the garden became available for use as a squash patch. Two pickup truck loads of manure went into the soil, and a row of little plants went into the earth, down the middle of the strip. They spent their first month under a “reemay” fabric cover, for protection from our annual spring invasion of cucumber beetles and squash bugs.

The plants grew strongly.  When the vines found the fence, they grew up, around, through, over, under and around their discovery.

Squash patch from the outside of the garden.

Now that it’s September, there are squash and pumpkins on the ground, and squash and pumpkins hanging on the fence. The plants are still trying to make more squash, but there’s competition between the fruit that have already set and the new fruits. There’s not enough nutrition to feed every  new pumpkin.

What happens to a late-season pumpkin “failure”.

The pumpkins and squash that are nearing maturity look good.

“Black Futzu” Japanese pumpkin. The dots on the blossom are fruit flies. They’re everywhere, multiplying in the compost tumbler, and on the hundreds of yellow cherry tomatoes that litter the ground. You can’t keep up with an enthusiastic cherry tomato plant. No big deal. The spiders and dragonflies love to eat the flies, and fruit flies are also a major protein source for hummingbirds. The hummingbird babies are still here, zipping around like giant, crazed bumblebees, eating and drinking as much as they can, fueling up before they head south for the winter.

The Waltham Butternut squash are bulking up, their skins are thickening, and their final color is starting to show.

The “Waltham Butternut” squash, bred to have nice, thick necks. Go to http://www.applecountryliving.com/blog/2009/01/squash.html f you want to know a bit of the backstory to this squash.

One of the 2012 experiments in the winter squash patch is a variety of pumpkin called “winter luxury”. The first fruit looked funny, for its skin was netted like a canteloupe. The seed catalogue description said that was OK.

Winter Luxury awaits…

We’re looking forward to some pies.

We’re not going to wait until March 14th, either.

At Wishetwurra Farm, any day can be Pi(e) Day.

My father built a little skiff once.

He gave it a name, which was a Greek letter, repeated thrice.

Rho, rho, rho.

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