In a recent
year, the seeds I planted in several adjacent rows in my vegetable garden
failed to germinate. Faced with a blank space, I wished to fill it. Always be
careful what you wish for! I bought summer squash seeds and formed half a dozen
hills of two or three seeds each. All of them grew. And grew. And grew. When I
began harvesting squash, I had delusions of keeping up. I collected a few and
relished their rich flavor. But soon, I had too many! I was fetching them by
the bushel basket nearly every day. I could not begin to give them away! The
plants commandeered half of the garden. Each morning, when I went to the garden
to pick the squash, I could not find spaces for my feet. From some crazy desire
not to crush the thick leaf stems of my gigantic squash plants, I proceeded
slowly on tiptoe, almost losing my balance and teetering above the squash
jungle. To have fallen among the foliage in such a way as to have wiped out a
few of the plants and to have slowed the production of squash would have been a
blessing, but I never fell.
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| Squash Taking Over My Garden |
Finally, I
was forced to admit to myself that I had too many squash, and I began chucking
their swollen bodies over the ravine into my creek. Poet and novelist Marge
Piercy perfectly captured the same experience in her poem entitled “Attack of the
Squash People,” which I first heard her read in 1980:
Piercy’s
poem is hysterical in the fullest sense of the adjective. I know. So was I.
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| One of Several Baskets of Squash That I Harvested Every Morning |
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| Harvesting Squash by the Wagonload |
A
digression is in order. I first met Piercy when I was earning my master’s
degree in poetry writing at Indiana University. She addressed the workshop of
ten poets in which I was enrolled. Our professor had mailed an anonymous
sampling of our poems to Piercy in advance of her visit. After she was
introduced, Piercy said, “I want to discuss one of your poems. It is
‘Wrestling.’ Who wrote it?” I raised my hand. Piercy complimented my work. Several
years later, after I had finished my PhD and was teaching at Northern Kentucky
University, Piercy came for a reading. At a social event, I asked her if she
remembered my poem. She said she did. I had the joy of meeting Piercy on at
least two additional occasions. One was at the home of a creative writing
professor. Music was playing. Piercy was sitting beside the professor. I had
walked over to Piercy to ask a question about poetry, but she brushed off my
introductory remarks, stood, and commanded, “Dance with me!” Embarrassed as all
get out, I danced. In a matter of seconds, everyone was dancing. I undoubtedly
got more from dancing with Piercy for a few minutes than I would have received
by asking my question; after all, she gave me something fun to mention in this
blog!
My favorite
way to prepare summer squash is basic. I slice it, boil it briefly, and put
butter and salt on it. Yum! It’s almost as good as dancing with Marge Piercy!
