Pumpkin peeps and punkin puns

The Annapolis Valley is known for a number of things, including being the Apple Capital of Nova Scotia, if arguably the country. Charles Prescott is the father of apple growing in our lush valley, as he brought scions and saplings of apples from his native Britain when he settled here in the early nineteenth century. One of the apples he introduced to our province is the Gravenstein, an early season apple that is awesome for pies or fresh eating, and is actually one of the foods in the Slow Food Foundation Ark of Taste.




But we're not talking about apples this time; today, I'm focusing partly on pumpkins. Another great Nova Scotia, Howard Dill, (from Nancy Bond's hometown of Windsor, and recently passed away) developed the giant pumpkin known as Dill's Atlantic Giant, which has been a record breaking gourd for years. There's an art and science--and obsession--to growing giant pumpkins, and there are several festivals celebrating pumpkins of all sizes at this time of year. Kentville, also in the Valley, has a pumpkin people festival every October, and there are dozens, if not hundreds of pumpkin people posing in vignettes all around the town and surrounding area.


I get an enormous charge out of these sculptures, which are put up both by community organizers and by ordinary homeowners. This parade of musicians is down at the community sports park in Kentville.


To market, to market?


Guess this guy must be playing the Orange (Squash) Blossom Special? Or maybe some Punk(in) rock?
Okay, I'll stop with the pun-kins now.


A few cool nights has begun the flush of colour in deciduous trees and shrubs. This is the current view from the Lookoff on a clear October afternoon.


Sumac is one of my favourite small trees/large shrubs. This native exasperates some people, because of its suckering tendencies, but I love it for its graceful shape, for its bird-friendliness, and for the incredible display of colours it puts on in autumn. This is the hybrid 'Laciniata', even more lovely with its filigreed leaves. 

I'm quite a fool for oaks at the best of time, but they show off their best charms in autumn, turning flamboyant colours before turning a deep bronze. They hang on to the trees for a long time before the winds finally force them to relinquish their grip on life. 

Ferns are not without their beauty at this time of year. I THINK this is a sensitive fern, but I could be quite wrong about that. I find that if I don't take my field guide into the woods at least once a year, I get rusty on some of the native ferns because I don't have them in my garden. The ground around it is covered with bunchberries, not yet turning colour, and also with the mainland version of partridgeberries (Mitchella repens) which are NOT to be confused with that gastronomic delight known as the Newfoundland partridgeberry. (Vaccinium vitis-idaea) Those of you not hailing from the Rock-of-my-Heart might know that particular fruit as lingonberry, by the way.

The wild raspberries are turning some lovely shades of carmin and soft peach. 

Hmmm, this doesn't appear to be either a plant nor a pumpkin. What's this doing in the post? 

This is the rare Tomatoby, not so much a plant as a supervisor of Bloomingwriter. Toby felt sad for me that my tomato harvest this year was even less than usual, but he was pleased that I'd put the tomatoes on the windowledge for him to rest his chin on. Hey, I was obviously put here on earth to serve the needs of cats, so I'm happy to accommodate him. As long as he doesn't knock them on the floor. Then they won't be tomatoes anymore. 

They'll be squash.