The Tale of James & the Giant Pumpkin

In Denver, Colorado, the beginning of June 2006 heralded an unseasonable streak of 90+ ºF heat in the Mile High City. 7 days of 90+ ºF temperatures! It was hot and dry. Damn hot. Sweatin’ hot. Festering hot. It was hot.

Pumpkin Lord James prepped the ground and we planted pumpkins in my backyard yesterday. I planted one. I hope mine doesn’t die. James did all of the work. “Number One” was the first pumpkin plant to grow in the pots.

It was unbearably sizzling on the outside but James tilled the hard Earth, mixed in steer manure, mushroom compost, horticultural polymers, organic soils containing the crushed remains of 3 flowers from Laura’s recent wedding and placed the sproutlings into the nutritious Earth. All of this was done in the heat. Sweatin’ hot. Drippin’ hot. No breeze. Stifling, radiating heat. James cleared the land and he dug that hole. He utilized tools of the strange garden realm. He lord-mastered the nature. He displayed his green thumb. Alls I did was provide the land and planted the dead pumpkin plant. Some radishes and corn were also planted.

Joy and splendor. It was a magical experience. Just as we finished the skies clouded. Oh yes, the heavens did open up at precisely the right moment, when the precious pumpkin plants were safe in Mother Earth, spilling water tears of joy on the garden and the world around us. Thunder clapped. It was a finicky break to the 7-day heat. It was as if the garden were the focal point of the space-time continuum.

This days events are worthy of myth. If I had a girlfriend, I would have gently caressed her hair and then kissed her passionately at that moment. Instead, I washed the manure filth from my hands.

Generations will sing the song about Mother Earth greeting the pumpkins with a splashy torrent of water from the sky; the way that Mother Nature can only present. “Pappie, please tell me ‘The Tale of James & the Giant Pumpkin,’” grandkids will ask whilst sitting on my knee by the fireside.

All credit for the above story goes to the radhole.  And It's all true.