peterography

After I dispatched the groundhogs some of my zucchinis recovered. We had a few with our dinners and we let others grow into bats while we were on vacation. I love zucchini and have never been tempted to leave a surplus on my neighbor’s porch. There’s actually a holiday set aside for this, Sneak Some Zucchini Onto Your Neighbor’s Porch Night, established years ago by a Pennsylvania talk show host, Tom Roy. But I spent Friday night making zuchnini Parmesan (think eggplant) while watching the Patriots play the Buc’s in a preaseason game. Football is the only TV I watch so my set hasn’t been on since February and it’s always a moment of great anticipation to see whether my TV will start again in August.

But I digress (what else is new?) - our raspberries are done; we still have blueberries; the tomatoes are finally turning red - I planted them late this year - and we harvested enough basil recently to make a nice batch of pesto. Our pears and apples should be ready to pick in a couple of weeks.

The big news is the butternut squash. My garden is terraced and the bottom, widest, longest terrace is devoted to the squash. But my squash has dreams of empire. It outgrew its terrace weeks ago, spilling down over the path I use to maintain my deer fence, and poking tendrils through the fence seeking Lebensraum on the other side. To the north it has climbed over the terrace walls and onto adjacent plots, a raging green ocean, a rising tide of solar-powered plantness, high on chlorophyl and looking for a fight. Yesterday I managed to push it out of my blueberries, but not without a struggle and I’m sure it will be back. Meanwhile I’ve conceded the zucchinis’ patch since they’re almost done for the season anyway. But that’s where I draw the line. Really.