redpinemountain.com

Mutated Melons

I know yesterday, the 10th anniversary of September 11th, was an emotional day for each and every one of us. I was going to write about it but instead I spent the day honoring those who lost their lives in my own, private way. Suffice it to say, all of us have that horrific day burned into our consciousness.

Today is a cautionary tale of a newbie gardener.

Every January, seed catalogs start arriving and for the past three years, their arrival has been the highlight of our long winter. I spend hours deciding just what seeds to plant. Of course, I’m searching for heirloom varieties but I’m also drawn to anything that produces in colors considered unusual. I want my garden to be as eccentric as I am.

My seeds arrived. Carrots in all colors of the rainbow, pumpkins in assorted hues and this year for the first time, melons as well. Small, personal size white honeydew melons I was intending to plant in the greenhouse. That is until Mountain Man intervened.

“Don’t start your seeds this year. We might not be here all summer.” Mountain Man is determined to move us to Missouri. He doesn’t realize I’m adamantly praying each and every minute of the day for us to stay put.

Following Mountain Man’s instructions, I didn’t start my seeds as we made plans to leave for Missouri.

But my prayers were answered. We decided to stay in Vermont. “For the moment.” as Mountain Man likes to remind me. Nevertheless, the decision to stay was made too late in the spring for me to start most of my seedlings.

Mountain Man came home with several young tomato plants, pepper plants and some cucumber seeds. “You have plenty of time to plant cucumber seeds.”

I figured if I had time to plant cucumber seeds, then I sure had time to experiment with my mini melons. I put the seed packets away and worked on getting the soil ready in the greenhouse. Soil done, I grabbed my seeds and got busy planting. Melons here, cucumbers here. Now all I needed to do was tend my garden and wait for the seedlings to sprout.

Soon cucumber vines were flourishing but no mini melons appeared. And as my cucumbers put out flowers and continued to grow to the sky, I gave up on my melons making an appearance. Oh, well, it was worth a try.

Weeks went by. “Are your cucumbers ready yet?” Mountain Man would ask me as I carried in tomatoes and peppers by the armful.

“No, they’re growing but they aren’t big enough yet and they are definitely not ripe.”

A few more weeks passed. “What’s going on with the cucumbers? They have to be ready by now.” said Mountain Man.

“No, they aren’t ripe. They are still white. I’m waiting for them to turn colors.”

“White? Go pick one and bring it to me and let me see what’s going on.” I run out to the greenhouse and pick a white cucumber and bring it to Mountain Man.

“That cucumber is mature.” Mountain Man then explained how I can tell a mature cucumber. “Never seen a white one before. What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything. Just planted the seeds you gave me. That’s all. Well, I did put some melons next to them but the melons never grew. Do you think they mutated with the cucumbers. Maybe we have a cucomelon? Maybe I started some new strain?” Visions of fame floated through my head.

Mountain Man shook his head at the mention of a cucomelon. He knew better than to explain the ins and outs of plant breeding. My eyes would cross, my brain would shut off and I’d be thinking of horses, geese, mountain streams. And why not? Why couldn’t there be such a thing as a cucomelon?

Mountain Man cut the white object. “Looks good.” He offered me a piece. “No, you eat it first. I’ll go after you.” Eat it he did. “It’s delicious.” I gathered up the courage, took a bite of my albino cucomelon. Waited for something terrible to happen to my stomach but nothing did and it was delicious.

“I don’t know what you did but these are wonderful. Are there more out there?” Mountain Man asked.

“Yes, we have dozens of them. I thought they weren’t ripe.” Still thrilled I might have invented a new strain of cucomelon, I rushed to the computer to do an image search to see if anyone else had done this or if I was the first.

Oh, no. There it was on Burpee’s no less where I ordered my seeds. The “White Wonder Cucumber,” an heirloom variety invented in 1893. Uh oh, I bet I know what I did.

Mountain Man is still in the kitchen extolling my marvelous white cucumbers. I hate to break the news. “Oh, Mountain Man, I think I know what happened. I think I made a mistake when I did the planting.”

“Go out to the greenhouse and find the seed packet. It will still be there. I know you won’t have thrown it away. That would have actually required you to pick it up and bring it back to the house and I know you. You didn’t do that.” He’s right. We don’t have trash pickup here. Coming to grips with the fact there is no trash pickup in the country has been difficult for me and I never, ever bring even more trash back into the house.

I find the seed packet and there it is in black and white plain as day. Burpee’s White Wonders. Woops! There go my dreams of cucomelons.

So my advice to all the newbie gardeners out there is if you need glasses, make sure you wear them before you start planting.

Thanks everyone for visiting us. Do you have any gardening stories to share?