Strange Harvest
                                  Strange Harvest first appeared in Western People ,
                                  and was reprinted in the Summer '98 issue of OnSpec .
                                  Here's what one reviewer had to say about it:

                                  "Autumn brings us a "Strange Harvest" courtesy
                                  of Edward Willett. You know how vegetables
                                  sometimes grow into bizarre shapes, pictures of
                                  which appear periodically in the tabloid papers?
                                  Well, this story supposes those vegetables got
                                  just a little bit weirder. I loved the attentive
                                  descriptions of tomato grenades, napalm
                                  radishes, glowing electric potatoes, and oh yes,
                                  tear-gas onions. That last one made me laugh out
                                  loud. The plot features a reporter working for a
                                  small local newspaper, and our hero winds up on
                                  a quest to figure out what the heck is causing
                                  these permutations of produce. Once again, the
                                  explanation is logical, unexpected, and
                                  entertaining. Share a copy of this story with your
                                  friends who practice organic gardening." -
                                  Elizabeth Barrette, Tangent Online

                              Copyright 1986 by Edward Willett

The tomato rolled across my coffee-spattered notes from the previous night's school
board meeting and fetched up against my Garfield cup with a "clink!". I stared at the
fruit, then tapped it with the end of my pen.

Yes, definitely a "clink!".
I looked up at the elderly woman who had brought me this unsolicited gift, and
winced--she wore a yellow-and-red floral-print dress under a man's bright blue nylon
ski jacket. "What can I do for you, Mrs. Annaweis?"
"I want you to take a picture of my tomato and put it in the paper."

I had already guessed as much. As editor of the Drinkwell, Saskatchewan, Herald
(circulation 1,100) for three years, ever since I graduated from journalism school, I had
seen enough four-pound potatoes, heart-shaped tomatoes, foot-long cucumbers and
two-headed stalks of wheat to last any sane or insane man a lifetime. Every autumn
these bizarre bits of vegetation were delivered in triumph to the Herald office by an
unending procession of proud gardeners and farmers like Mrs. Annaweis, now glaring
at me through her bifocals. I call it funny vegetable season, and here it was starting
again--if in a bizarre manner. "Mrs. Annaweis, this is a lovely bit of ceramic, but..."

"Young man, it grew like that."
I bit my lip. Mrs. Annaweis's stern face defied disbelief. I opted for stalling. "Really?"

"Mr. Harkness, I am not crazy. I picked that tomato and a bushel more just like it from
my garden this morning."
"Of course you did, Mrs. Annaweis," I said soothingly, while thinking sad thoughts
about senility. I played my ace-in-the-hole. "It's just that I don't think it would photograph
well, so..."