a beastly squash & something about Gremlins

Do you remember how, like, two hours ago my Carrizo squash was this size?:

Roughly five inches long.

WELL. By Monday it had reached thirteen inches. Translation: in five days, it just about tripled in size.

Nature! You boggle my mind!

If you've been following along, you already know that this squash is easily the largest, most exciting thing I've ever managed to produce during my so far brief sojourn as a gardener. As a bonus, it shows no signs of rotting suddenly on the vine or abruptly being eaten by the wildlife. And even Lila with her formidable destructive tendencies and inexplicable vegetable-directed angst can't paw it up because in gentle defiance of gravity, all ten thick-skinned pounds of it are currently dangling magically and safely in midair well above pawing level.

My squash, though undeniably huge and therefore terrifying, is however a gentle giant or at least hasn't knowingly hurt anyone yet. True, if its stalk broke at exactly the wrong moment, it could effortlessly crush a Pomeranian, and I can't shake the mildly debilitating fear that a gooey, spiky-headed little alien is about to erupt from its bulbous end. But - although I'm no statistician - I think if everyone just refrains from walking tiny dogs beneath it on windy days and resists the temptation to feed it after midnight, realistically everything should turn out fine in the end. 

My big, beastly baby sporting possible alien pregnancy.