Gus Harrow's Turnip and the Closed Road
Folks in Turnip Gulch will tell you that Gus Harrow grew the biggest turnip the world has ever seen, and folks in Turnip Gulch have never been known to shrink a story.
It started as an ordinary seed, but Gus watered it with a leaky bucket every evening, and that bucket must have been enchanted. By June the turnip had pushed up past the fence. By July it was taller than the barn. By August its leaves cast so much shade that the rooster crowed at noon, convinced it was sunset.
The trouble came when the turnip sat down right across Main Road. It was so wide that wagons had to drive around it, and the detour took three days. The mail arrived late. The mayor missed her own birthday party. A traveling salesman, trapped on the wrong side, sold his entire stock of umbrellas to a family of frogs just to pass the time.
Gus tried everything. He tied a rope around the turnip and hitched twelve horses to the other end. The horses pulled until their hats fell off, and the turnip never wiggled. He tried asking politely. Politeness did not work on vegetables.
At last Gus's grandmother, who was smaller than a mailbox and wiser than a library, tapped the turnip with her spoon and said, "Well, it is dinner time." The whole town came with pots, bowls, and one very large ladle. They made turnip soup, and it fed everybody for a month, with enough left over to heat the school all winter. The road opened on the first of September, and the turnip skin made a very fine roof for the gulch's new bakery.