This year our summer ended abruptly. While we were relieved when the rains finally came to cool us after the oppressive heat, we seem to have missed out on fall altogether. According to those who know, summer just officially ended. However, on my calendar since mid-September I’ve recorded “Fog, rain, rain, snow, snow.”
For several days in a row there was no moisture but we endured a vicious cold wind. Not so long ago we were overwhelmed with acrid smoke, thick and choking. Much of it blew in from British Columbia but we were producing some of our own as well.
One sure sign of changing seasons is the sudden appearance of notices: “Pumpkin Spice Latte, pumpkin muffins are back on the menu.” A novel I read recently also had characters who were bemoaning an overabundance of pumpkins in their mountain community.
Someone even posted on their Facebook page that there are now pumpkin-flavoured communion wafers available. That’s a first for me.
A friend inquired “what is all that pumpkin good for anyway?” A perfectly reasonable question. Originally in the early days of settlers and colonization, pumpkins were easy to grow and fairly nutritious. I have often watched the growing process at the college, in the raised garden beds. The tangle of the vines hides the development for quite a long while. The mottled green gourd grows to a large size before it begins to brighten to orange. I hope the harvest was completed before the early snow arrived.
We didn’t grow pumpkins at the farm. I assumed it was because we were prone to early frosts in the Westward Ho area. The folks had tried to grow corn a few times, but the season was too short for the kernels to mature successfully. Perhaps the history of pumpkins was the same. Or perhaps dad didn’t care for them?
Mom began buying it in tins to make pies once we moved into town. It tasted quite bland. We were used to mom’s own version: she cooked and mashed carrots. Those pies had more colour, texture and a sweeter flavour.
My mother-in-law went for the real deal. Jane washed and dried the seeds to be planted next season and some to be enjoyed as a snack. She didn’t seem at all put off by the chopping, dicing and peeling or the abundant slimy, stringy pulp. Probably Jimmy helped in the process. He was quite a good hand in the kitchen, when he put his mind to it.
When my kids were young enough to enjoy jack-o-lanterns, I did use up the remains for loaves. On occasion I have tried the pumpkin spice latte. I have already had my token pumpkin muffin. It is moist and tasty but one will do. That’s it for this season.
- Joyce Hoey is a longtime Gazette columnist
