Today is the day.
More specifically, this morning is the first morning I peeked out through the mist and spotted the first bloom of the straightkneck yellow summer squash plants I had planted from seed some six weeks or so ago. I was ecstatic, but skeptical. “Honey, look out there and tell me what you see?” She raised the blinds and said, quite matter of factly (I thought), “That’s a squash blossom.” She grew up on a farm. It is hard to argue with roots, and she is Uncle Joe’s sister. Still. . . . “Are you sure?” I asked. “Let’s go out and see,” she responded
We did and here it is: The First Yellow Squash Blossom Bloom!
There is a controversy here. Squash scientists, you see. They can’t agree. My squashes, if they produce the smooth yellow-golden fruit on their label, will be of the C. pepo scientific namenclature. Those smart persons in the back rooms seem to be in agreement that the yellow squash now native to North America is C. pepo, but there is disagreement as to origins. Some (I suspect they may be neighbers) argue C. pepo first developed from its ancient ancestor, Mr. C. texana. Others, seeking perhaps to diminish the grandeur of the Lone Star State, argue C. pepo is the true ancestor and C. texana is a rogue and feral offspring and upstart. How could that be?
We shall leave this heated debate to the university laboratory and return to the backyard arbitory and its first bloom.
There is a concern there, a very serious concern, a concern as the future of our C. pepo and its bloom.
To express this worry, I worry we must depart from the more defined and uncertain land of science and enter the more amorphous and uncertain realm of verse:
Ode to
Oh . . .
Why do Odes
Always start
With an
Oh . . .
Watch out
For the squirrels
And rabbits and birds
They will scratch and bite and peck
You clean
Watch out now you
Little first yellow squash blossom bloom.
Oh . .
Watch
Or . .
Ode to you
Oh . .
Oh, yes
A second blossom, two bloom
And a third blossom, three bloom
Oh, ode
Oh, yes
And, no
Oh, oh, oh
If you survive the carnage
Is it the table for you
And for me
Oh, ode, ode, ode
I can’t wait
Oh, oh, oh, ode
Can you?
Grandpa Jim