NASA, we have watermelon!

Okay, so I’m about a month late in sharing my news. But, since a giant, happy melon still sits on the vine waiting to bring life to my kitchen, I think my timing is adequate.

First, allow me to marvel at what a joy a watermelon is! From a tiny seedling no larger than a banana, in the blink of an eye, colossal green orbs are mounding up across the yard, spreading to occupy what feels like half the garden.

I was finally blessed with ripe melons once I waited for the leaves around the stem to turn brown. I thought my first, unripe melon was heavy, but my ripe melon was no comparison! That sucker weighed at least twice as much as my cat… so, 25 lbs? Is that possible? (I wish I had a scale.) When I plunked it down in the sink for a rinsing, my entire sink moved. That’s right! The weight of the thing nearly knocked my sink loose from the countertop (and this is a new, rock solid countertop, not an ancient one). I have never in my life seen a kitchen sink move, but this watermelon brought it to a shake.

Aside from its massiveness, I found another surprise in my hulking fruit. I placed (or, rather, dropped) it on my cutting board. Using my longest, thickest knife, I prepared for a major cutting event. As I began to plunge my knife into the green flesh, I jumped—afraid—like a child holding a balloon that pops.

Pow! My watermelon exploded, ripping open from end to end—all from a mere piercing. Only a short inch of the tip of my knife had met with the melon, yet upon impact, it exploded with release, bursting with the freshness that only a newly picked watermelon can produce. All that pent up ripeness just waiting to feed me.

That watermelon explosion might be one of my favorite kitchen experiences! It’s such an adrenaline-filled moment, totally out of the ordinary from the usual cutting and chopping routine. And it never gets old—even when I know it’s coming. It always shocks me, as I jump backward, afraid I’m being fired upon from the kitchen counter top.

In fact, I have been known to hand the knife over when visitors are present for the surgery. “No, really, you do the honors,” I insist. Then I clap like a school girl as I watch them jump away when the explosion occurs.

This experience, however, cannot outweigh the shear joy of that first, crisp bite. The firm fruit of a garden-grown, freshly picked watermelon is incomparable to anything you’ll find in the supermarket. Each bite crunches smoothly, while your throat is coated with sweet liquid. Refreshing. Reviving. Crisp heaven in a giant, green orb.

Garden watermelon: this is my big, pink happiness.

Tap the bottom to see if it makes a hollow sound. Look for a creamy yellow underside. The fruit should feel heavy for its size. How do you tell when a watermelon is finally ripe?! I have struggled with the above tips as a home gardener. Allow me to illustrate…

In early July, my watermelon vines had made their way out of the garden bed, into the neighboring bed, up the fence, and nearly to the neighbor’s yard. I watched excitedly! This excitement peaked when I noticed giant, green orbs beginning to poke through the foliage. They grew larger and larger until one day I was sure they must be ready to eat. (I think I waited a whopping one week.) I selected the largest melon from the pile—a heavy monster that I just knew was going to make my summer! It made a hollow noise when tapped. That was a sure sign of readiness. I practically ran to the kitchen, grabbed a butcher knife, and prepared for surgery. One large gash down the middle, and the melon fell gracefully open.

That’s when I had to hold back the tears. I was staring not at the deep pink of a ripe garden watermelon. Instead, I found myself looking into a white abyss. Perhaps I unknowingly planted a white-colored heirloom variety? Yes, that must be it! I sliced off a chunk and took a bite: lots of water, but almost no flavor. Why me?!

So, I waited. And waited. About a month passed. In early August, the watermelon vines became loaded with aphids. The sneaky pests were taking over. I decided to trim back any vines that weren’t feeding large melons. I accidentally snipped a vine that fed into a small watermelon. He had a creamy yellow bottom and was very heavy for his size. Bingo! Watermelon season has arrived! My mouth watered in anticipation.

Meanwhile, upon closer inspection of my remaining watermelons, I noticed that three of the beauties were sliced open, rotting on the ground. How did that happen? The openings looked like precise cuts. Did a bird do it? Did the watermelons themselves break open because they were overly ripe? Such a mystery! But that left one thing certain in my mind… the watermelon I had recently taken from the vine was sure to be ripe through and through!

In the kitchen, my discovery did not match my hypothesis. Once open, the melon revealed a pale pink flesh. This was a far cry from the pure white a month earlier, but certainly nowhere near ripe. My disappointment became palpable. Even my cat wanted to cry. Two watermelons that had gone under the knife did not make it out alive. Three lay on the ground, rotting. I am left with six fair-sized fruits that I am anxious to eat. I absolutely love that juicy splendor of deep, ripe watermelon. But I fear I am destined to be denied due to my amateur gardening skills.

I will make another attempt in a week or two. This time, I’ll try watching for the browning of the curly vines near the stem of the fruit. Maybe this will be the tip that finally works. Cross your fingers for me, and stay tuned to find out whether I ever discover ripe watermelon as the saga continues…!