Neighbors became fascinated with the oddly shaped gourds – some with smiley faces – hanging on the fence of the house of gardener and artist Mary Jane Suruda in Highlands. 
During a party at the Portland Road house, some people picked gourds right off the vine, while others chose gourds that had been transformed by Suruda into decorative art pieces resembling granite or marble objects. 
Many people walking by would stop, take pictures and talk to homeowner Mary Jane Suruda about the gourds growing in her yard.
By Sunayana Prabhu
HIGHLANDS – Can fences build friendships? On Portland Road, an army of bottleneck gourds hanging on a vine over a fence has woven a neighborhood together, bringing laughter and a sense of belonging on a quiet street otherwise filled with distant “hellos.”
Mary Jane Suruda, an artist and resident who has lived on the street for over 30 years, never imagined that a packet of gourd seeds bought on a whim would bring nearly 65 people together at a backyard party earlier this fall, where Suruda auctioned off 16 gourds; the highest bid was $28.
Suruda calls her oddly shaped gourds “a riot,” “funny,” “wacky,” and “just the weirdest things,” but also “wonderful” and even “almost magical” because of the joy they brought to the neighborhood.
It all started with seeds Suruda planted last year and this May across the front of her house. She sketched funny faces with a black marker on the slow-growing, oddly shaped gourds. As the vines flourished, so did relationships on the block.
“Every day it seemed like a Jack-in-the-beanstalk type experiment. Most people that walk their dog would see them grow and grow,” Suzanne Guenther, a neighbor a few houses down from Suruda, said. “It was a marvel to behold.”
“The craziest part of this,” she added, was to walk by every day and “see the evolution” of the different shapes of gourds that come from each seed: “Some are fat and squat, some are long.”
“Early in the morning, you’re grouchy, you’re half awake, and I would go by and see this bush with these things growing on them, and they made me smile… every single time,” said Kim Kosko, another neighbor.
The neighborhood became fascinated with the humble gourds. People walking by would stop, take pictures and talk to each other. “I’d hear bunches of people outside laughing and chatting,” Suruda said, noting that neighbors who had rarely exchanged more than a wave soon found themselves deep in conversation beneath curling green vines.
“We should have a party,” Suruda recalled joking with a neighbor. The idea took root.
Kosko put invitations in mailboxes along the street and, after weeks of planning, Suruda’s backyard was filled with neighbors bidding on gourds.
“I don’t know any of the people that are on this block, really, other than nodding, saying hello,” Kosko said. After meeting people at Suruda’s backyard party “this place became a neighborhood to me after 36 years.”
The gathering of so many people for a “gourd time,” Suruda said, brought happiness in the fall as gardens everywhere started to wilt away. Also, she added, “this political environment is so depressing and so upsetting and so frightening and scary, that I think that the people walking by who saw the gourds and laughed latched onto it like it was a little emotional lifeboat.”
“But it is the oddest thing in the world,” she said, laughing.
Suruda said she thinks sometimes the news and the weight of everyday life are “getting to everybody. And this was a simple, simple thing. We grew something. We all enjoyed it.”
A few neighbors even put tags on the gourds still on vines to stake their claim on the last batch of the season.
Some of the gourds auctioned at the party came right off the vine but some had been transformed over the past winter into decorative art pieces by Suruda. When the stems turn brown, the gourds are ready to be picked, she explained. She harvests them, then sets the gourds aside in a cool, dark garage to dry through the winter, allowing natural mold patterns to develop on their surfaces.
Once the gourds are fully dried, she washes them with bleach and detergent, scrubs them to remove the powdery mold, and then gently sands them with ultrafine sandpaper to smooth their texture. She applies multiple coats of glossy acrylic lacquer to bring out the intricate, naturally formed patterns.
Suruda described the finished gourds as glossy decorative pieces that look like natural pieces of granite or marble often found in home décor stores.
Plans are already germinating for next year. Suruda mentioned being intrigued by loofah gourds to add to her birdhouse gourds. She is also planning more community gatherings, given her new fan following.
“The funny thing is, I’m 78. So, who knows whether I’ll be alive next year,” Suruda said, with the fatalism of a gardener. “But I think everybody would be a little sad if there weren’t gourds next year.”
The article originally appeared in the November 13 – 19, 2025 print edition of The Two River Times.
