Even giant pumpkins start small

I'm not a big Charlie Brown fan, and I don’t have a garden, yet this year I've grown a giant pumpkin. 

Growing any pumpkin wasn't pre-mediated. When I went to the garden shop around June 20, I was looking for tomato plants. But there it was: a giant pumpkin.

To be precise: a Dill’s Atlantic Giant Pumpkin plant. My first husband and I visited the Dill farm in Nova Scotia, on our honeymoon. Since we divorced peacefully, the plant’s connection to my first marriage didn’t matter. Instead, because I’d been there, I was intrigued.

The pure whimsy of trying to grow a giant pumpkin, without a garden, starting late in the season ...

Given the serious nature of my work, guiding people through conflict, I had to buy it. I needed the contrast.

I planted it by my back fence, in the dead leaves beside my raspberries (also growing in dead leaves). About 3 metres from my 60 year-old cottonwood tree. Not an ideal location at all, but it was all I had available. I made do.

I started caring for it. I gave it water, and the plant started growing.

It grew and grew. Snaked out in front of the raspberries, in front of the cottonwood. Into a bush and snaked through the back fence, into thhe neighbour’s yard.

There were many bright yellow flowers, but all were male. This meant there were no pumpkins forming. Without female blossoms, nothing could happen.

Do you know how frustrating that is? When all I wanted was one 25 kg (50 lb) pumpkin. It was horrible. I was afraid one would grow in my neighbour’s yard.

Then it happened. There was one female blossom, with a small pumpkin orb at its base. Early August, and my first pumpkin!! Late, but I’d take it. I called some friends, to celebrate.

Then, disaster. I accidentally knocked the unopened blossom off when I was mowing the lawn. Who knew it could be so fragile?

This meant, no pumpkin. And not another female blossom in sight.

I was sure there'd be no pumpkins. Yet I kept caring for the plant. I’d grown attached to it.

Then ... a miracle... four female pumpkin blossoms!!! 

I helped nature, and on August 25 used a paint brush to pollinate three female pumpkin blossoms. 

It was an experiment. After all, it was too late in the year to expect a pumpkin. I was playing, simply because I could.

All four started to grow.

Extremely late in the year. 

I had no expectations.

The pumpkin plant did. It killed off three of the little pumpkins. Seriously, those little pumpkins shrivelled and rotted on the vines.

I've never seen anything like this in plants, before.

I helped the plant too. I snipped the ends of the vines, to prevent further growth. This way, all the nutrients would be channelled into the remaining pumpkin.

And the last pumpkin, the one the plant chose, it grew. I named it Harold. Look at him in the photo!!!!

Less than six weeks old, and weighing 25 kg!!!

It was enough. I knew if I didn’t harvest him, the hungry squirrels would devour him for his seeds. They’d been caught biting him twice, and the risk was increasing as the days shortened, even with me covering him with a sheet each evening at dusk. I evaluated the risks, and saved Harold. He would have continued to grow for a few more days, but at what cost?

I want him for Hallowe’en.

Why a story about my giant pumpkin?

Can you guess?

There are so many lessons.

First, this is a story about not giving in to despair or quitting too soon. After I knocked off the first female blossom, it would have been easy to pull out the pumpkin plant. I didn’t, and the plant didn’t disappoint. It gave me my pumpkin.

There’s a lesson here, about the miracle of nature. The fact that Harold grew at all in this cold climate. The speed in which he grew. The plant didn’t have to do anything except what it is genetically programed to do. And it did it at the right time.

How the plant put everything it had into one goal: to grow one pumpkin, ensuring no others would grow. Can you imagine what humans could create, if we could harness our energy and be that single-minded?

Harold isn’t perfect. He’s quite flat on one side. He grew so fast, the side against the earth didn’t have a chance to become round. Yet Harold is still beautiful. Perfection isn’t required. I can learn from that.

Finally, about happy endings being possible, when you're open to what can happen. And about ... giant pumpkins.

I’ve been thinking about the lessons from Harold, and about applying them to my work, and to my life. I need to be more like a pumpkin plant, and more like Harold.

If you want to learn how I pollinated the pumpkins, or have any other questions about this tale, reach out, send me an email to kim@kimkorven.com (you might be able to tell I'm just a little excited by this bit of whimsy). If you want to talk to me about it, or want to discover how my experience with Harold can help you resolve conflict, book a free 20 minute Consultation.