And you thought YOU were putting on weight–

Okay, all you pumpkin growers, with your little gourds weighing in at ten, twenty, even thirty pounds, that's nothing. Get a load of this–but be careful, because it'll crush you if you're not. Apparently these babies can put on forty (that's 40) pounds per day (that's every day).

Pumpkin200 

Image from NPR.

That, folks, is a pumpkin, grown by one Steve Connolly of Warren, R.I., briefly the record-holder world's heaviest pumpkin, at  1568 pounds, until a previously undiscovered crack disqualified him. As a member of the Southern New England Giant Pumpkin Growers, it sounds like he's found his niche, but is it big enough for him and that pumpkin?

Go to the NPR page, and you can see a whole row of monster pumpkins awaiting the weigh-off, and listen to clips including information about exploding pumpkins. I greet this "information" with some skepticism, having been taken in by NPR's story about exploding maple-sugar trees a couple of years ago. Of course, that story did run on April 1st…. And yeah, I do know that "gullible" isn't in the dictionary.

Nitrogen Deficit: Thomas Hager’s “Alchemy of Air”

In flight

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I know it’s the norm to finish a book before reviewing it, but I couldn’t wait that long. Thomas Hager’s Alchemy of Air, about the development and effects of synthetic nitrogen fertilizer, is such a terrific read that I’m having a hard time getting anything else done.

Since I’m only half-way through, this won’t be a real review, but more of a travel essay, telling where I am and where I’ve been, and what the landscape is like.

First of all, it’s a lot more interesting than you might expect simply from the topic. This isn’t a polemic; it’s a historical narrative, and Hager’s a master of the form. He gives us the people, the problems they faced, and the world in which they lived, so that we get a richer understanding of what they did, why, and its consequences, than any dry recital of facts could convey.

He starts with the problem, as articulated in the late 19th century: the world’s population was growing at an ever-increasing rate, outstripping the ability of farmers to feed it. Fertilizers, therefore, were increasingly important and valuable, but the known sources were either inadequate (manure) or were being rapidly depleted (Chilean nitrates).

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Favorite Blogs #1: The Great Garden Monkey

Humpback

Here’s to The Garden Monkey, who alone converted me to the blogosphere, a hitherto unknown and threatening world, by giving me a sense that it could actually be fun, and maybe I could be myself there.  His ongoing installments –hijacked interviews of garden personalities, internet moments of the week, not to mention the coveted Fork ‘n’ Monkey awards—add much to our lives, gardening and otherwise. Put it all together, and it’s practically a reason to live.

Moby Dick opens with Ishmael’s explaining that whenever “it takes a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people’s hats off,” he goes to sea. “With a philosophical flourish,” he says, “Cato throws himself upon his sword; I quietly take to the ship.”

Me, I think, Really, I mustn’t off myself today, because I’d miss the Garden Monkey’s next installment about British gardening personalities creeping about in each other’s gardens and scheming to steal each other’s garden gnomes, and if I missed that, life really wouldn’t be worth living, now would it. Which makes as much sense as most reasons for living.

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That's a humpback whale at the top of the post, one we saw while on O'Brien's Boat Tours in Bay Bulls, Newfoundland. We also saw a finback and a minke, but you can tell this is a humpback because the fins, even underwater, are white. One of the boat men sang shanties, too.

From “dastardly” to “divine”

Columbine petal

Who'd a thunk it. A few short months ago, James Alexander-Sinclair said the following  in a comment on this very blog you're reading at this precise moment: "Ah-ha. So this is where the dastardly Kate (may the pigeons poop upon her laundry) hangs out."

Got that folks? "Dastardly." (Excuse me while I wring out my handkerchief; the memory still makes me weep.) If you think I made it up, you can check it out yourself. It was in the comments on the very first post in what shortly became known as the Sock Wars. (As for the remark about the laundry, the pigeons, and the poop, well–the less said, the better.)

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Potato Harvest in a Teacup

I dug up the last of the potatoes a couple of days ago.

Potato harvest '08

These are the ones I actually stuck a shovel through; the rest I'll wash only just before eating. It was beautiful out—in the sixties right into dusk, with that warm, low, autumnal sunshine striking through the trees.

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