In the spring I planted many pumpkin seeds of three varieties.
Most sprouted then died.
Of those that lived and blossomed . . .
all but one had male blossoms.
This is our single pumpkin growing.
The skin is pale peach with the feel of
a rubber baby doll.
Frances is taking a break from the summer's heat, by relaxing in front of the air-conditioning vent. Through her mind, she is telling me to move on and take the camera with me.
No comments:
Post a Comment