Pumpkin-loving Pig

I just love heirloom pumpkins, and so does our pig. 

I love them because they are so unique looking and they taste great.  She just loves them because they taste great.  Pigs don't care about appearances.

I'm not talking about you, Miss Piggy.  You have impeccable taste.  Just ask Kermit.

Anyway, I had some pumpkins and squash leftover after our pumpkin sale at our town's annual Harvest Festival, and my pig and I have since made great use out of them. 

I used several of them as decoration to add a little fall atmosphere around the homestead...

And the rest I stored in our basement that we're slowly turning into a root cellar.  The constant temperature in there keeps them protected from the freezing temperatures that have suddenly settled around our part of the world, and it preserves them for months on end.

Let's just take a minute to appreciate the beauty of my pumpkin shelf.  I can't express how happy this shelf makes me...and my son, too.   He's actually the one who inspired the whole basement-to-root cellar-transformation. 

It all started with him watching too many episodes of Doomsday Preppers.   He became simply obsessed with food storage, and he started talking constantly about having enough emergency supplies stored up. 

Thankfully, the pumpkin/squash shelf has satisfied him for now.  I guess he's decided that if the world comes to an end, we'll survive on heirloom squash and pumpkins. 

Sounds fun. 

But what's even more fun is that every once in a while we pull a squash off the shelf and toss it to the pig.  And that makes her squeal with joy.  It's very entertaining.

We don't get out much.

Look how happy she is!  And look at that squash-covered snout.  She's like a kid in the candy store--if the candy store sold squash seeds, which is her favorite snack.

What's interesting to me, though, is that she can't seem to break open the pumpkins on her own to get to those seeds.  I find this a bit strange, because the strength of the jaw muscles of a pig is similar to the strength of the biceps on the Incredible Hulk.  Really. 

I guess the rind is just too thick for her jaws to get around.  They don't open that far.

So I have to give her a head start...

I raise the pumpkin high over my head and then throw it down as hard as I can.  This causes it to burst open enough so she can get her snout inside to where all those tasty seeds are hiding.

I have a confession to make:  The squash in the above photo didn't actually make it inside the pig pen, and I'll tell you why.

It's a variety called "Green Warty Thing", and it's renowned in the heirloom squash world as one of the most elite baking squash in the world.  I have an abundance of these in my cellar, so I really thought it would be okay to toss one to the pig. 

I was wrong.  Just after the photo was taken I started having second thoughts about sharing my precious bounty with a member of the swine family.  And I started daydreaming about all those lovely pies I could make from this one beautiful squash.  Hmm.  Pig vs. Pie...

I decided to make a pie.  I brought the squash inside the house and set it on the table, then I went into the kitchen to grab the knife to cut it.  But when I turned back around with knife in hand and saw how lovely my squash looked setting on the table, I just couldn't cut it. 

(Ba-dumt-dum.  Cue the cymbal crash.  Hope that didn't go over your head...)

As I was saying...my need to display beautiful produce instead of eating it won out.

Darn it!  After all those years in therapy, I thought I had worked past all that...

So I threw caution to the wind and created a nice seasonal display, which then made me hungry for pumpkin pie.  Go figure.

So I went back down to the basement, grabbed another Green Warty Thing, and brought it to the kitchen. 

But something happened along the way.  

I decided to see if I could balance it on my head.

What?  Don't tell me you don't balance strange objects on your head.  Everybody does it.

I was actually kind of proud of successfully balancing a 20lb squash on my 10lb head.  Unfortunately my joy was short lived.  Immediately after the squash came down, I realized I had a pressing need for a bottle of Ibuprofen. 

Which promptly put an end to my pie-making plan. 

I should have just fed the silly thing to the pig to start with.   Hindsight, right? 

Oh well, everybody makes mistakes.  And some people make pies...just not me.

But there's always tomorrow!