Zucchini Rising

Last year I foolishly planted two zucchini plants in our vegetable garden. The result was a truckload of produce that try as we might — cooking, freezing, giving away — we were defeated, and by September that quadrant of the garden was littered with the bloated bodies of dark green fruit, vaguely echoing the Matthew Brady photographs of Gettysburg. Callously, I did not bury the dead, but rather allowed them to rot where they fell.

This year we subscribed to a CSA, and decided to cut back our garden by more than half, to only a few heirloom tomato plants, some pepper plants, and a couple of basil plants, things we didn’t think we’d get from the CSA (though we have). But sometime in May, as we admired our crop of weeds in the untilled vestige of the vegetable garden, we spotted a plant that looked from its leaves to be a lot like a zucchini plant. But I’d never seen a volunteer zucchini, and thought it nothing more than a look-alike weed. And in the following month, after the yellow flowers had come and gone without bearing any fruit, we assumed it was, indeed, only a weed, though we allowed it to flourish, as in its bright green and yellow plumage was a standout in the weed-bed.

Then just this last week, rummaging under the faux-zucchini leaves for red raspberries (which had also taken up residence in the deserted garden) we discovered several zucchinis, hiding beneath the green canopy, one more than ripe — yellow, a foot-plus long, four inches across — but three that were of picking size (four to six inches) and several that should be ready for harvest in the next week or two.

I’m not sure what to make of this literal windfall (groundfall?). One thing, I’ve learned that there can be volunteer zucchini. What I’m not sure of is why the first set of flowers didn’t produce any fruit, but it’s now showing up late in the season. My guess is that our weird weather this summer (cool and wet early, warm and dry recently) kept the insects from pollinating the early flowers. Or something else. What do I know? But the gift of volunteer vegetables is the reward of past effort, a second yield this year from last year’s sowing. Of course, we now face the problem of what to do with this extra produce we don’t need. At least some of it will be allowed to rot again over the winter to sink into the soil beneath the snow and maybe reappear next summer as an uninvited but still welcomed guest.