Last year we tried to grow pumpkins. Not only do I enjoy pumpkin pies, jack o' lanterns, and roasted pumpkin seeds; but I also enjoy the look of pumpkins. Ripening in the fading sunshine of fall, pumpkins seem to embody the spirit of autumn. They have the orange glow of an autumn sunset. Pitty they like to get eaten by all sorts of critters. Not knowing much about growing pumpkins, I didn't recognize squash bugs until it was too late. By the time I figured out what was eating the vines, the pumpkins had shriveled. The little bugs were everywhere and were too overwhelming to pluck by hand. Even though I love pumpkins, I made the hard decision not to grow them this year. At least I didn't expect to grow pumpkins until my son intervened. He's six, and has long been fascinated by squash, gourds, and of course pumpkins. When I told him there would be no attempt at growing pumpkins this year, he moaned in disappointment. I relented and agreed to save a small portion of the garden plot for pumpkins. Much smaller than last year. I dutifully planted the seeds after the last fall frost, and they came up big and strong just like last year in the early summer. In truth, it didn't take much arm twisting. I still dream of some day growing the giant pumpkins that weigh several hundred pounds. I'll either receive a trophy at the county fair or have the most gloriously impressive jack o' lantern on the block. I would not, however, make the same mistakes as last year. When the vines started to get big, I started my regular rounds. Every couple of days I would check to see if any squash bugs had arrived yet. Then I saw those evil critters and their evil eggs under the leaves of some of the pumpkin vine leaves. After first discovering the little demons, I went out every day to squash the squash bugs. The eggs I scraped off the leaves and either dumped in soapy water or just squished between my fingers until I heard them pop. The walking versions suffered the same fate. Either squished until their nasty green entrails came out or consigned to a watery fate in a soapy bucket. I took special delight squishing the ones having sex when I found them. Seriously, I've found several attached to each other when I disturbed their privacy and ended their nasty lives. I guess that makes me the Freddy Krueger or Jason Vorhees of the squash bug world. Whenever two teenage squash bugs think about having sex, I come along and kill them. My own horror movie in my own backyard. This may all sound quite disgusting, and a gardening neophyte would probably feel like turning back. The costs of gardening may sound too high if it requires you coat your hands in bug guts. Even though my son wanted pumpkins in the garden, he's shown no interest in helping with squash bug squishing. He's happy to squish Japanese Beetles so I know he's not all that squeamish around bugs. When it comes to his prize pumpkins, however, he can't be bothered to squish a few bugs. I don't think he fully realizes the implications of squash bugs. Maybe he doesn't realize the glorious pumpkins we could have if only he would help squish a few of the aptly named bugs. I know, however, what these little guys are capable of. I knew that if I showed any weakness, they would take over and dash any pumpkin dreams that still lingered. It was a battle, and I thought I was winning. After about a week of bug squishing, I went out into the garden for several days and saw no sign of the little guys. I also saw my first pumpkin on the vine. Finally, I had won; but at what cost to my eternal soul? Perhaps the spirits of squished squash bugs would come back to haunt me.

At least, I thought I had won. Shortly thereafter, I saw a vine borer fly through the garden. I ran to the garage to get my kids' butterfly net, but when I came back the vine borer was nowhere to be found. Then, just this week, I found squash bugs again. I'm at it again. Looking under leaves for eggs. Killing baby squash bugs when I can. Taking special delight in killing the fornicating ones. To make things worse, the little pumpkin I saw on the vine last week withered and died. I guess the battle endures so watch out you nasty little squash bugs. None of the other veggies have been so needy. The tomatillos are full of fruit. So are the tomoatoes. Sure a few bugs here or there, but none of the bugs that have munched on my tomatoes, tomatillos, okra, lettuce, etc. have caused so much mischief. I have still gotten bumper crops even with a few bug bites. But not the needy pumpkins. Since squash bugs had decimated my squash crop last year, it was probably pretty foolish to try pumpkins again this year. I mean, I know they overwinter in the ground and pop up again in the spring. I knew they would be back. Perhaps, they are the Jason Vorhees or the Freddy Krueger of the vegetable gardener world. Just when you think they are destroyed and banished the pits of hell, you get Squash Bugs XII: A World Without Squash. Hope, however, spring eternal in the heart of a gardener. The fascination with pumpkins and gourds springs eternal in my son. And some day, death will finally come to all squash bugs.