I dropped out of college when I was 20 and moved into my folks’ rural cabin here in Minnesota. Recently I had eaten zucchini with some friends—and wondered why we’d never had anything this good at home.
I decided to grow my own. Dad had an old Moline tractor, plow, and disc at the place, so I went to work tearing up some ground for a garden. My plot was maybe 50 by 150 feet—managable, right? I knew that, among other things, I wanted to grow some of those wonderful zucchinis. So I bought seeds and planted three rows of hills.
That’s right: three 50-foot rows of zucchinis!
And—oh—I lived alone!
Well, they were kind of cute when they first started growing. But, of course, they soon grew way out of control. No problem, I had a ’53 GMC pickup truck. I just filled the bed with a load of two-foot zucchinis and drove into town to give them to all my friends!
It’s now 38 years later and, in spite of all that, I still grow zucchinis. But I sure don’t let them get as big anymore. I don’t even leave my zucchini plants alone for a weekend!
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