Ryan DePersio, Melody KettleI grew up across the street from a cemetery.  It was nice to have such quiet neighbors, but it was even nicer to have a source of spontaneously generated zucchini blossoms.   

Every year, around June, my grandmother and I would cross the street, squeeze through an opening in the cemetery fence, and with brown bags in hand, we would head toward the southernmost hill in the cemetery that was magically covered with countless golden zucchini blossoms.   And we would pick, and pick.