Aunt Dorcas and the Zucchini Canoe
Aunt Dorcas grew vegetables, and she grew them big. Her carrots could hold up a tent. Her pumpkins made fine hats for barns. But her zucchini was the talk of three counties.
It started as a small green seed in the spring. By June, the zucchini had stretched down the garden path. By July, it had crossed the road. The neighbors began to worry that it would grow into their kitchens.
"What am I supposed to do with all this zucchini?" Aunt Dorcas asked her dog, Pudding. Pudding wagged his tail. He did not have an idea.
On a hot August morning, Aunt Dorcas noticed that the zucchini was long, smooth, and shaped almost exactly like a canoe. She grabbed her biggest spoon and scooped out the inside until it was hollow. She made two paddles from garden rakes. Then she pushed the whole thing into Lily Pond.
It floated beautifully. Aunt Dorcas and Pudding paddled out into the middle, where the cool water splashed their toes. All the neighbors came to see.
"Best boat I ever rode," Aunt Dorcas declared.
That night, she made zucchini bread from the scooped-out parts, enough to feed the whole town. The canoe is still on Lily Pond, though ducks have started to nibble it.