They looked so innocent, those two little zucchini seeds.
I did not know how my life would change because of them. It would be a good sermon illustration. Or a good plot for a sci-fi movie – like The Blob or The Day of the Triffids.
Even as small plants, they still seemed to be containable, their lovely, green leaves bright against the earth.
And then they began their relentless march, their slow and steady attack, moving from garden patch to kitchen table.
In the beginning I was able to defend against their attempt to defeat me. We had zucchini – grilled, baked and made into soup. I was really “cooking”, if I do say so myself.
But they only increased in number. They seemed to have endless reinforcements. Still, I soldiered on, trying to think of more and more recipes and even enlisting a few allies in the battle.
The leaves of their plants became huge. They started to employ guerrilla warfare, hiding beneath and behind the leaves, trying to launch a surprise attack.
One day I found a huge zucchini hidden under a leaf. It was the size of my arm – a veritable Sherman tank out there in the garden patch.
This called for an all-night campaign. Loaves of zucchini bread later, I felt that victory was indeed in sight. I would “squash” them in the end. I knew it.
But as zucchini after zucchini continued to appear, I began to despair. One night I looked at the large zucchini on my kitchen table and wondered what to do. I began to lose hope. I needed help from above. The enemy was too much for me.
And then it happened. Just as I was about to surrender. Help came in the ninth hour. Help from above – the first frost of the year. I went out to the battlefield to see the leaves lying limp on the ground. No more zucchini. I had won. I felt I could finally rest in my victory.
Soon afterwards, there was a knock at my door. It was my neighbor.
“I’ve just picked apples from our tree. Would you like a bushel?”
Friday with Flo 