Giant-Pumpkin Growing Is Apparently A Blood Sport

11 October 2026

2026

R. Linda:

Lucky me! Since I live near one of New England's biggest pumpkin festivals, Cruella decided I should cover the Great Pumpkin Festival for the paper. For joy! I don't mind taking the kiddos the weekend of what is the equivalent of a harvest festival in Ireland. But covering it as a news story takes all the fun out of it. What could I do? And how much can one say about pumpkins?

Now I know from years back that the pumpkin growers in the region are the most competitive people I've ever met. One year, there were accusations of 'fertiliser doping' that led to a bloody nose- yes, there was, really! Within five minutes of standing in the crowd waiting for pumpkin weigh-ins (a biggie, let me tell you), I discovered a world of fierce pumpkin rivalry. So I knew pulling a story from these pumpkin growers…wasn't going to be easy. 

I half expected to meet gardeners. Instead, I stumbled into what seemed like the Formula One of vegetable cultivation. I started interviewing men who spoke in hushed tones about soil composition, seed genetics, compost recipes, watering schedules, and one even refused to reveal his 'secret feeding regimen'. At the same time, another one insisted, "It's all in the mycorrhizae," as though discussing nuclear physics.

Then there was the weigh-in. People gathered around a forklift to see pumpkins lifted onto an industrial scale. The atmosphere was like a heavyweight title fight. Competitors eyed each other's pumpkins suspiciously. 

"A bit too orange, isn't it?"

"Too symmetrical, if you ask me."

I had no idea if these were compliments or accusations.

And weighing these enormous beauties didn't go without remarks and arguments all over the place. One man, in particular, was not happy his giant was on the "wrong side" that didn't show off her plump roundness. I was like, say what? Who cares? It's what the thing weighs that counts, but no, not in the eyes of these people with their gargantuan pumpkins.

Once every pumpkin was weighed, the judges announced the winner to much fanfare, and the other contenders took the news with varying degrees of disappointment.

Earlier, I walked up to the defending champion, who answered me questions while affectionately patting a 1900-pound pumpkin proudly named Littice. First, I thought he said "lettuce," but no, "Littice." Don't ask me why; he didn't know either.

"She's been a bit temperamental this year," he mused, while I quietly wondered whether I should point out to him that, in fact, Littice was a pumpkin. 

And the winner is … not Littice

Unfortunately, the 'temperamental' Littice didn't win, though she was second; another biggie did, at a whopping 1964 pounds! I asked the winner what they'll do with this enormous champion.

"I'll make pie." She said it brightly, like, "What a great idea I have." Uh, duh.

And there you have it, pumpkin fans.

I drove into Boston to write up me story (such as it was), and I thought somewhere, someone had just baked the most expensive pumpkin pie in New England. I do respect the dedication behind the eccentricity. I even think when I go back next year, I'll ask that pumpkin grower how Littice is looking. 

Gabe

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