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wrapped around the gladioli stems, crossed between the row of sweet corn, and penetrated under the ornamental shrubs. The leaves hung on the stalks like an army of green parasols, edge-to-edge.
In the heat of August, a young boy visited us and stood amazed. Then he ran along the vines, counting the watermelons, and testing the weight of the ones he could lift.
He shouted back from the bottom of the garden: “Hey, look! One’s gone right through the fence, and it’s got a big melon on the end!”
When the time came to harvest the crop, we made sure that our young August visitor got the biggest watermelon — green striped, but more round than long. It sounded like a drum when you thumped the outside, and on the inside it was red and juicy, with white seeds, just as the catalogue had promised. It weighed in at 43 lbs.
But what do you do when you have an unexpected bumper crop? We couldn’t eat them all, and it was too late to work out a contract with a supermarket. We decided to spread happiness among our friends.
We pulled the melons off the vines, and staggered with each one to the car to drop them off at the various houses. Some friends were at home, so we were able to explain what had happened. For those who were away, we put a sticker on the watermelon — “With compliments,” etc.
On the first delivery round, we. had trouble. The melons rolled around on the back seat of the station wagon, thumping into the sides as we turned each corner. It wasn’t pleasant for us, or the produce, so we had to do something abqut it. We sat these large, rotund watermelons
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