Louise looked about as she and Craig rode in his truck to the pumpkin festival Saturday morning. Evidence of the event decorated every lamppost and storefront. Banners stretched across the street overhead, announcing the Baskenburg Fall Carnival and Great Pumpkin Weigh-off. She’d been too excited to eat breakfast. The cup of tea in her hotel room hadn’t helped.
Craig pulled into the Baskenburg fairgrounds where they’d unhooked and left the trailer the night before. She hadn’t known what to expect, but at least thirty trailers with huge pumpkins and squash and watermelons had already arrived. An official-looking man had told them where to park.
The fairgrounds buzzed with activity. The colors orange and green predominated, with displays of pumpkin paraphernalia, pots of chrysanthemums, banners, ceramic jack-o’-lanterns and cornucopias filled with gourds and Indian corn. Booths sold pumpkin doughnuts, spiced cider, caramel popcorn, hot dogs and breakfast foods. Vendors offered whimsical wind chimes and whirligigs, bottles of barbecue sauce and fancy pickles, aprons, hats, T-shirts and handmade jewelry. Off to one side, the seats of a Ferris wheel creaked in place, empty in the early morning hour. All the carnival rides stood still. Colorful flags and banners flapped in the breeze as if to invite would-be riders to join the fun.
They went to a registration table to sign in. Louise filled out an entry form and paid her fee, while Craig moseyed around, looking at the various giant vegetables. He came back as she got a number. Then they went to the trailer and waited. A worker arrived on a forklift. He maneuvered its tines into the palette and lifted Louise’s pumpkin as if it weighed just a few pounds. It bounced as he drove over and set it down beside a row of other pumpkins on palettes. An official then attached an entry number to the orange giant.
“That’s it. Now we wait. Let’s go find some coffee and something to eat. I’m starved,” Craig said.
“Me too. We should have eaten breakfast.”
“Couldn’t. Too nervous,” Craig said. “Besides, I love carnival food.”
“Me too. Silly, isn’t it?” Louise said. They walked over to a booth selling homemade baked goods and coffee.
“Good morning,” a lady said. “I saw them unload your pumpkin. Looks like it might be our winner, unless someone shows up later with something even bigger, but they only have forty-five minutes before registration closes.”
“Really?” Louise looked around. There were so many huge pumpkins, it was hard to tell which one looked the largest.
“I haven’t seen you here before. Is this your first year?”
“Yes,” Louise said. “This festival is amazing.” She bought a cup of coffee and a square of crumb cake.
“Come back later, after you win a ribbon. We’ll have bratwurst with sauerkraut or chili and the best blackberry ice cream you ever tasted.”
“That sounds very tempting indeed,” Louise said. “I love anything made with blackberries. I’ll be back, win or lose.”
“Welcome to Baskenburg’s Twenty-Seventh Annual Giant Pumpkin Weigh-off,” a voice announced over the loud speaker. “Gather around the weighing station. We’ll start with the giant squash.”
A small band with accordions, guitars, a banjo and a drummer had set up on a side stage. They played a lively polka. Some of the audience began clapping in time. After a rousing few minutes, the music stopped and the weighing began.
Louise noticed that none of the entries was round. Some of the vegetables looked like they were covered with warts, but beauty wasn’t the point. Only size mattered. The forklift carted one palette after another to the big scale.
Seventeen squash later, the winner, weighing 671 pounds, was announced. An elderly man hobbled up to the front to a polka tune, accepting his trophy before a cheering crowd. He posed for a picture, grinning broadly.
The audience had grown. The big draw of the day would be the giant pumpkins, but there were still lots of other vegetables to be considered.
“You could grow any of these at your nursery,” Louise told Craig. “You should try.”
He clicked a picture. “And take the pleasure from that old man? I don’t think so.”
Next on the scale were watermelons. The winner was a beauty at 176 pounds. The music played, and a middle-aged woman accepted her prize as her family cheered for her.
The long gourds fascinated Louise. Jane grew gourds for decoration, but she’d never grown one like these. Louise preferred the bulbous shapes and variegated colors of Jane’s gourds. Sometimes she painted them to look like dolls and donated them to fund-raisers in Acorn Hill. These gourds were long and dark green and looked like giant zucchini squash. The winner was ninety-eight inches long, about three feet taller than its grower.
They watched the tomato competition. A large crowd enthusiastically clapped and cheered for every entry, no matter what it weighed.
Louise had to admit that a three-pound tomato was impressive. It also looked tasty.
Finally, after the cantaloupe, they started weighing the pumpkins. Louise heard her name called by someone behind her and she turned around. Reba and Harry Gladstone stood behind them. He had on a bright orange ball cap with a pumpkin on the front and she wore an orange straw hat.
“I was wondering if you’d come,” Harry said. “Which one is yours?”
She pointed out hers. “I gave in to pressure,” she said, glancing at Craig, who smiled. She introduced them. “Did you bring anything?”
“I brought a squash and a watermelon, but neither one placed.” He shrugged. “Maybe next year.”
“We do better every year. We come mainly to see friends. The giant growers are great people,” Reba said.
“Everyone’s been awfully nice,” Louise said, looking around. “Are your friends here?”
“Haven’t seen them yet, but I’m sure they’re here. Delmer wouldn’t miss it,” Harry said.
“I think he has a big one this year,” Reba added. “Good luck.”
The judges started with the smaller pumpkins and advanced to the larger ones. Louise watched the numbers gradually rise on the pumpkin scale. Five hundred. Six hundred. Eight hundred. Nine hundred. So far, none was as large as hers, but she had no idea if Craig’s weight estimations were on target.
The forklift brought a huge pumpkin to the scale. Louise thought it looked larger than hers. The numbers whizzed away, stopping on 1,027. Surely that was the winner. She saw Delmer and Genevieve Wesley step up to the scale. The crowd applauded. The man handed them a piece of paper, then scrawled the weight on the pumpkin in black marker. Louise sighed. She chose to be happy for the man, even if he was a grouch. He certainly looked happy now. She thought he glanced her way, but he didn’t seem to recognize her. The forklift removed his pumpkin.
The next pumpkin weighed thirty pounds less. The following one looked smaller, but weighed within three pounds of Delmer’s pumpkin.
Finally, they brought Louise’s pumpkin to the scale. Craig went closer to get a picture. Louise followed him so that she was standing right in front of the scale.
The numbers whirred past eight hundred, nine hundred, one thousand, and finally stopped at 1,040.2 pounds. Louise blinked and looked again. The crowd began to cheer.
“Go get the paper,” Craig said, nudging her elbow.
“Oh.” She stepped forward and received a copy of the official weight. They’d already marked the pumpkin. Several people congratulated her as she went back to stand by Craig.
“I knew you had a winner,” Harry said. “Congratulations.”
“They aren’t finished,” she said.
“None of the rest are even close,” he said.
They weighed three more pumpkins. They were all less than a thousand pounds.
“And the winner is …” The announcer waited for a drum roll. “Louise Smith of Acorn Hill with a pumpkin at one thousand forty point two pounds. Will the top three entrants come accept your prizes,” the announcer said.
The band struck up a victory song that Louise remembered from college football games. In a daze, she went up front. The music stopped and the announcer started with third place. Then Delmer accepted second place. He stood next to her while she accepted the winning trophy. The announcer congratulated her and handed her the microphone. “Would you like to say a few words?” he asked her.
Louise didn’t know what to say. She looked at Craig, who was grinning and clapping and nodding encouragement.
“Tell your secret,” Delmer said beside her.
“Oh dear.” Louise held the microphone near her mouth. “Thank you. I’m stunned to win this competition,” she said. “I have to confess, I am not a gardener, but I had exceptional seeds, a sister who knows how to prepare a garden, and a dear friend, our local nurseryman, Craig Tracy, who advised me all the way. They all share the credit for this prize. To all of you who grow these amazing pumpkins every year, you have my utmost respect,” she said, looking at the man beside her. “Thank you all.”
Louise handed back the microphone to the announcer. The crowd cheered. The band struck up a boisterous rendition of “Happy Days Are Here Again.”
“Congratulations,” Delmer said, reaching out to shake her hand. “You raised a beauty.”
“Thank you. So did you. I can’t believe mine weighs more than yours. Could the scale be wrong?” she said.
“Not a chance,” he said.
The crowd began to disperse. Delmer stayed next to her until they were out of earshot of everyone.
“I want to apologize for my bad manners at your inn. I’m glad you won.”
Louise stared at him. “You are? You’ve worked hard to grow the biggest pumpkin. Mine is a fluke.”
“No. I got carried away. Winning became so important to me, I became jealous when I heard about your pumpkin. I went to the inn to check it out.” He paused, looking very uncomfortable. “I snuck into your garden before dawn.”
“I know.”
“Yes. My sister saw you. She’d been out jogging. She also saw your friend go into the garden and interrupt you.”
Delmer hung his head and nodded. “I owe him an apology too. And a thank-you, for stopping me from doing something nasty.”
“Would you really have harmed my pumpkin?” Louise asked.
“I don’t know. I guess I’ll never know. But your kindness to Genevieve and me, even when I was so rude, made me realize there are more important things than winning.”
“Well, let’s give you the benefit of the doubt. At any rate, I don’t intend to do this again,” Louise said. “One giant pumpkin is enough for me. It’s turned my life upside down.”
Delmer gave her a hint of a smile. “You don’t like the limelight, do you?”
“Not really,” she said. “If I’d known, I never would have planted those seeds.”
“Congratulations,” Genevieve said, coming up next to her husband. “I heard your comment, Louise. Why did you plant them, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“To prove to my sister that I could grow something. Jane is the gardener in our family. I’d seen a patch of giant pumpkins years ago and I was so impressed, I bought a few seeds as souvenirs. Then I forgot about them. This year I found the seeds and decided to give them a try. I thought if I managed to grow anything, maybe it would be respectable.”
Delmer laughed. “Much more than respectable,” he said. “I don’t suppose I could talk you out of some seeds.”
“My friend Craig will have the seeds. I’m sure he’d be happy to sell you some. He has a flower shop and nursery in Acorn Hill.”
“Did he advise you on fertilizer?” Delmer asked.
“No. I tried something I had read about in a novel, but truly, I have to thank the Lord and my sister for my success. You’re a gardener, perhaps you’ve heard the verse about sowing and reaping.”
“Oh yes,” Genevieve said. “One person plants and another harvests, but the Lord makes the crop grow. Is that the one you mean?”
“That’s it. I looked it up, because I was puzzling over this great pumpkin. I did feed it something unusual, but I had no control over its success. Not really. The Bible says, ‘So neither he who plants nor he who waters is anything, but only God, who makes things grow’ (1 Corinthians 3:7). My sister has been working the garden and building up the soil for a long time. I came along and planted these little seeds that someone else provided. And that’s what came of it,” she said, pointing to her pumpkin.
“If you’re not going to raise them again, would you tell me what you fed it?” Genevieve asked.
“Why not?” Louise leaned forward and whispered in Genevieve’s ear.
The lady gave her a stunned look. “You’re kidding.”
“That’s the honest truth. Six ounces every day.”
Genevieve looked at her husband, then at Louise, and began laughing.
“What did she say?” Delmer asked.
Still laughing, his wife said, “I’ll tell you later, after I’ve sworn you to secrecy.”
“This is serious business,” he said. “If it’ll help me grow a champion, you can be sure I’ll never tell.”
“Come visit us again sometime,” Louise said. “I promise we won’t serve pumpkin for breakfast.”
“We’d be delighted,” Genevieve said. “Now go enjoy the carnival. They have pie-eating contests and they’ll be cutting up the entries in the largest pumpkin pie contest over there,” she said, pointing to a large striped tent.
“Thanks. We will, but we want to be back in Acorn Hill before dark, so we won’t be able to stay long.” Louise said good-bye and went to join Craig, who was waiting patiently.
Craig frowned in the Wesleys’ direction. “I couldn’t help overhearing part of your conversation. That’s the guy who wanted to sabotage your pumpkin?”
Louise nodded. “He apologized. He’s had a change of heart.”
“That’s good. Gardening is such a peaceable, happy occupation, I can’t imagine anyone getting so caught up in winning a competition that he becomes bitter.”
“Neither can I. But I’ve learned something.”
“What’s that?”
“It takes a lot of work to produce a successful garden. You and Jane have my total admiration and respect.”
Craig smiled and touched the brim of his cap, giving her a slight bow. “Thank you, ma’am. And your wonderful seeds are going to help my business. Will you share your fertilizer secret with me?”
“Yes, but not until I tell Jane and Alice. Speaking of whom, I’d better call them with the good news.”
“Here. Use my cell phone. I’ll go see about getting our prize beauty loaded for the trip home.”
Louise smiled as she punched the numbers into the little phone. Jane and Alice were going to flip over her news.