At the end of kindergarten last year, my oldest daughter Anna (known around here as Anna Banana, or “AB”) brought home a biology project: a little plastic cup half-full of dirt with a few tiny leaves poking through. She told me she had planted a pumpkin seed and – to my shock and dismay – the damn thing had actually started to show signs of life. I dismissively told her we could plant it in our garden, fully expecting it to perish. When planting day finally arrived, AB lovingly transferred her little seedling to the far corner of the garden where it wouldn’t interfere with the real vegetables.
I had no idea that a pumpkin vine is quite a commitment. Continue reading