Got Squash?

By Adam Edell, coordinator and member of the Berkeley, California Tuv Ha’Aretz

Be open-eyed to the great wonders of nature, familiar though they be. But men are more wont to be astonished at the sun’s eclipse than at its unfailing rise.

– Hayyim Luzzatto

While sorting through a friend’s online picture album this week, I came across a set of 5 photographs where she had captured two shooting stars nearly crossing paths from opposite directions. With a big “wow” I reached for my little Hazon blessings cheat sheet in my desk that tells me what to say when I see that kind of thing: “…oseh ma’aseh beresheit…who makes the works of creation.”

This little scene had me thinking about our CSA box, which has the ability to inspire gasps of awe with a new arrival (concord grapes at their peak of ripeness!) or remarks of displeasure as one pushes past the old standby (zucchini…again). As a gardener I try to remind myself, with all my aphid-infested corn, water-stressed eggplant and bitter cukes, to be quite grateful for my indefatigable squash plants, who have churned out a steady crop unscathed by pestilence all summer long. As sure as I can count on a new crookneck poking out from underneath those broad leaves the minute I turn around, oh constant squash has sustained me through the diminished returns of other crops I’ve grown less successfully.

And that’s just it: particularly well-suited to this climate, summer squash is a workhorse in the field. In contrast to the primadonna tomato of thoroughbred-like temperament, which must withstand the threat of blights and scalds and cracks, the vigorous squash is capable of tremendous output in spite of some dainty powdery mildew or poorly-draining soil.

I’ll try greeting my squash the way I feel each time I plant…maybe you’re like me: no matter how many times I put seeds in the ground, I am somewhat surprised when they actually germinate, as if a product of magic. Then, I’m somewhat suspect when the plant appears to be growing healthy. I’m joyous when fruit appears and astonished still when it tastes good. So I’ve begun to appreciate my steady squash, greeting it with a little “Hi squash, how are ya?” and a more frequent “thank you!” to one of those underappreciated works of creation, the summer squash.