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Early on a recent morning, I looked with dismay at the large number of yellow squash in my little garden. What would I do with so many? Why had I put in so many plants? * The bright yellow flowers are | beautiful and the leaves are enormous, most measure a foot across.
There is something tropical looking about this bold plant. 1 Indeed, it is a native of tropical ; America and was introduced to the world by the Spaniards who invaded Mexico in 1519. ,j The Aztecs were raising the jj bright yellow vegetables for ' food along with tomatoes, hot peppers, and chocolate.
My squash dilemma turned to delight when I heard
] a strange bird call that came from the paper mulberry tree * hanging over the garage. It was a guttural, low-pitched sound, something like kowkow-kow-kowp-kowp, in delibS erate sequence. I knew the f bird making that sound: a yel\ low-billed cuckoo.
My intention was to write about a bird with a yellow bill. I Instead I was diverted by a plant with yellow flowers and fruit; “fruit” being the botanical term for any seed or vegetative matter containing seed.
The cuckoo’s call trans. ported me back to hot and 1 humid July days in central j North Carolina. “Hear that?” ! niv father would say when a
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