Warner Corner - October 2009

The Season of Gourds
Kirk Carter Mona, Outreach Coordinator

Last October my son was not quite one year old. He'd just started to walk and he toddled around the farm exploring everything when we took him to pick out pumpkins. He was far more enamored by the colorful gourds. With fall colors ramping up to full volume outside I find myself wondering what's behind our fascination with gourds, squashes and pumpkins in the autumn. As I stroll down the aisles of the farmer's market, I see squashes of every color and shape. I see these same decorative shapes as centerpieces at friends' houses and even printed up on paper decorations in department store windows. It could reasonably be argued that our autumnal fascination with all things gourd and pumpkin is simply a matter of timing. These fruits ripen and come in from the fields as the leaves turn color on the trees. They are simply a natural reflection of the season.

All of these plants are members of the plant family cucurbitaceae along with cucumbers and even the luffa that gives us those skin grinding shower sponges. Gourds, which people use for crafts and even birdhouses are considered to be one of the earliest plants domesticated by humans. Recent research suggests they have been used for over 10,000 years and carried across the globe. The cucurbitacece family also includes watermelons and cucumbers.

I’m not convinced our affinity for autumnal fruits of squash and pumpkins is merely a matter of timing though. Many apples come to fruition in the fall as well but they don't captivate us in quite the same way. The hollow spaces and cold interiors of gourds and pumpkins serve as a reminder, perhaps even subconsciously, that the feckless joy-filled days of summer are over. The long, hollow cold of winter will soon be upon us.

The colorful exterior of gourds belies their dark interior just as the overwhelming color of fall belies the blanket of white that will soon be with us. I'm an optimist though. While I'll certainly miss the hustle of summer and the warm colors of autumn, winter holds treasures that have yet to come.

With feet crunching through the fallen excess of summer, I'll take my nearly two-year old son this week to pick out a pumpkin. This year, he'll pick out his own. We'll scoop out the thousands of seeds and carve a face into the side. We'll put in a softly glowing candle and the glimmer of light shining through the eyes with give us hope. The glowing candle is a symbol of warmth in a dark space. In the winter, I will be the candle as I wrap myself in layers of wool and venture out into the cold. Before that ever happens, we'll bake the pumpkin seeds in a warm oven for a snack. The thousands of seeds in a pumpkin are all promises of a spring to come.