So I return home from a ten day road trip to discover that my pumpkin plants have all but taken over my front garden. Arriving just before midnight, it's clear that something is different. Something has . . . changed. Even in the darkness, I can see their leaves looming above the other, once dominant but now dwarfed, plants. Their vines reaching out and strangling the coneflowers, the rosebush, the branches of my fledgling maple tree. It looked a little spooky. And that, of course, is a good thing. I'm not sure what transpired here in my absence, but clearly, the pumpkin-growing stars were aligned in my favour.
Maybe if I leave town again, I'll return home to giant pumpkins.
Maybe if I leave town again, I'll return home to giant pumpkins.