Moms and zucchini

My mother is 73 years old . In September, she'll be 74. She is a freak for zucchini. Because she lives on 20 acres, mom has plenty of space for a garden. Every year, she works to have a ripe tomato before July 4. Most vegetable gardeners consider a ripe tomato before July 4 the ultimate in vegetable achievement.
The weather in the Sacramento valley this year has given all gardeners a headache, but my mom has been persistent in her planting. Since I have a small yard, she considers it her duty to plant enough zucchini for me. What she ends up doing is planting enough zucchini for me, my neighbors, and everyone I work with. Sometime in August I will begin to receive bags of zucchini on my porch in the night. I will awaken to the sound of a car door slamming, an engine revving to pull away, and find several grocery bags left clandestinely on my porch. I'll call her at a reasonable hour.
"Mom. You left zucchini on my porch this morning. Why didn't you come in for a visit?" I ask when she answers the phone.
"Well, dear, I didn't want to wake you," she always replies sheepishly. But see, I know what this really means. " I didn't want to wake you" is code for "I didn't want you to tell me I couldn't leave all that zucchini with you".
This year it started early. Last week, she pulled up at 7:30 p.m. on a Tuesday in a state of nervous excitement. She had the tell-tale beer cooler in her hand. I knew there was no beer, just zucchini.
"Lisa, you must try this zucchini. It's a hybrid. I got the seeds at Capitol Nursery when I was looking for the Italian zucchini I love. You must tell me what you think."
She pulled three medium sized squash out of the cooler. They were pale green, looking like unripe zucchini. I asked, "Are these ripe?"
"Of course they are ripe. Everyone knows you do not let zucchini grow too large."
"Have you eaten them?"
"No. That's why I bring them to you. You have to try them."
"OK."
"I gave a few to Lou also. You girls are my test kitchen."
I asked her to come in for a glass of wine, but she had to go. So in a whirlwind of energy, she left me with the beer cooler.
About 45 minutes later, the phone rang. It was Mom asking me if I had tried the zucchini yet. I said, "Mom it's 8:15 p.m. We ate dinner already."
"Oh. Are you going to bed?"
"No. Did you want me to cook the zucchini NOW?"
"Do what you want. I just called to tell you that Lou tried it and said it tastes like mud. I tried it yesterday and couldn't tell what it tasted it like. I put so much stuff on it. You don't have to cook it if you don't want to."
"Ok. I'll cook it if you want me too."
"That's OK. I'm going to go out into the garden and pull up all these plants right now. I found some of the Italian zucchini seeds when we were in Fort Bragg. I'll plant those tonight."
So, from what I can tell, she went out into her garden at 8:30 p.m. on a Tuesday. She pulled up four of the suspected mud-tasting vegetables and planted only God knows how many zucchini seeds. More to come....