Back in the day, on our small farm in New Jersey, growing pumpkins was a simple endeavor. The climate of the Garden State is wonderful for growing pumpkins as long as you have a spot with more than 6 hours of sunlight and we had that in spades. But what really boosted our ability to grow pumpkins was our horse manure pile. It was our secret weapon. Our manure pile was impressive and because our family always kept a few backyard horses, it grew larger, day in and day out, month after month, year after year.
To keep a manure pile from spreading out too far, it was important to get a wheelbarrow to the top of the pile before dumping its contents. To aid in our quest to get to the "top of the hill," my sister Susan and I would lay down planks end to end to act as a sort of ramp. Then whoever was pushing the wheelbarrow would get a running start and head toward the ramp. The big front wheel would bump over the edge of the first plank and up the pile you would go. If you were really skilled and had enough leg strength you'd make the transfer to the second plank and eventually to the top of the pile where you could dump your load. Most times though, somewhere between the first and second plank, you'd loose control of the load and everything (including you) would tip sideways into the fragrant heap.
This grand, steaming pile of manure was the perfect place to grow pumpkins. One spring, mom came home with a packet of "Big Max" pumpkin seeds. She gave us each a few of the pale white, plump seeds and instructed us to plant them (not too deep) scattered about the manure pile. Within a few weeks pumpkin seedlings emerged from the mound. It didn't take long before the seedlings became a raucous tangle of vines with enormous leaves. The manure pile took on a Medusa-like appearance with the vines extending to the outer edges. The flowers and then pumpkins began to appear. Small and green at first they gradually grew to bocce ball, then basketball size and beyond. By the time fall rolled around we had some serious pumpkins.
But we still had to use the manure pile for dumping. After all, the horses didn't stop producing manure just because we wanted to grow Halloween decorations. So Susan and I carefully placed the plank ramps to do the least amount of damage to our ever increasing crop of pumpkins. We had a few near misses and flattened several of the large leaves, but all of the pumpkins emerged unscathed.
When it was all said and done the largest one was over 100 pounds. We used it to adorn our front porch to greet young goblins on Halloween. We gave the second largest to our neighbors who owned the country gas station down the road. There it sat, bright and orange, practically winking at customers as they fueled their cars or asked for directions. That fall our pumpkins were the stars of the neighborhood.
After Thanksgiving, though, the pumpkins lost their allure as bright and shiny thoughts of Christmas pushed into everyone's minds. We piled them into our wheelbarrow and took them to where they began, up the planks and onto the manure pile. There they rested and rotted with their magic seeds inside waiting until next spring, when they could emerge once more in all their orange glory.
JERSEY GIRL
14x11 inches, oil on linen canvas, 2019
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A lovely Jersey cow and her companions bask in the warm sunshine on an early fall day.
