I didn't think I could do it. I was again full of self-doubt. Another year, another trip to the greenhouse, another patch of weeds where I'd envisioned a five by five foot cornucopia of edibles. Never had I been successful with zucchini. I was beginning to feel I was the only person in rural America that was unable to overwhelm her own yard with the devilish Italian Curcurbita Pepo. Of the three zucchini plants I stuck in the ground in May, it appears only one survived. A summer of neglect, capped by my absence for the month of August, obviously bolstered the lone ranger squash. Tonight, after I took out the trash to the alley, I decided to take a last look at the leafy green plant coexisiting with the gigantic dandelions, crab grass and milkweeds.
There it was, snarling at me. Daring me to pick it. I had to slap the snot out of a slug that was moving in on it, but the matured specimen was mine, all mine.