Some might say 44-year-old John Arena Jr. is out of his gourd.

 This season, the third-generation farmer has devoted eight acres of his family’s 200-acre spread to planting spoons, penguins, hedgehogs and snakes.

Called “cucurbits” in farm-speak, gourds are what dangle on Arena’s vines. Thirty tons of gourds. Twenty varieties in all with names like egg, swan’s neck, pear, bottle, caveman’s club, Turk’s turban and crown of thorns.

The uglier the better, says the farmer, who begins harvesting gourds in September.

Call him crazy, but Arena — co-owner of Arena Farms on Route 2 in Concord and grower of 350 varieties of fruits, vegetables and herbs — says his latest, oddball crop is worth $10,000, retail.

A close cousin of squash, pumpkins and cucumbers, gourds grow in a variety of shapes, colors, patterns and sizes. These misshapen orbs have spots, bumps, ribs, crooked necks and stripes. And lately, consumers can’t get enough of them. Warts and all.

Demand has skyrocketed over the past five years, according to Arena who expects to sell all 30 tons of gourds this fall. Five years ago, he sold a mere six tons.

Publicity, Arena replies. Inside his work trailer, the farmer ducks into a back room to retrieve a glossy magazine. He emerges with the October 2003 issue of Martha Stewart Living. On the cover is the most gorgeous set of gourds.

“People see it on TV or in a magazine and they want to buy it or try it,” says Arena, adding that the New England Vegetable and Berry Growers Association plugged gourds a few years back to enhance sales.

Indeed, Martha Stewart, the doyenne of domesticity, has elevated gourds to high art. Not only do the fall issues of Martha’s magazines read like a paean to the gourd, she even boasts a book and DVD devoted almost entirely to decorating with them. Gourds, pumpkins and squash on the front porch. In the front yard. On the hall stairs. On the dining room table...

Crafters crave the large dried sort, which are turned into bowls, drums, maracas and birdhouses. Google gourds on the Internet and you’ll see that “gourd art” is all the rave. There’s even a group called The American Gourd Society and a publication named The Gourdzette.

Heck, you probably even have gourds in your bathtub: loofa comes from their dried, fibrous, sponge-like interior.

In Boston, David Webber of the Massachusetts Department of Agricultural Resources concurs with Arena, attributing the popularity of ornamental crops — gourds, Indian corn and Chinese lanterns — to a home-decorating trend hyped by national TV.

“The fall season has really, really grown” in terms of ornamental sales, says Webber, adding, “Halloween is now the second-biggest holiday for decorating after Christmas.”

Yes, replies Frank Mangan, an associate professor at the University of Massachusetts Extension in Amherst. As he speaks, Mangan is en route to the Chelsea Produce Market to deliver 10 cases of pipian grown on a Lancaster farm.

“We call them gourds,” he explains, “but pipians are a staple among Salvadorians.”

Mangan, who works in the university’s Department of Plant, Soil and Insect Sciences, educates Bay State farmers on how to grow crops for local ethnic markets, particularly for the state’s recently-arrived Asian and Latino immigrants.

“This represents tremendous opportunities for farmers” to take advantage of the newest ethnic market “and produce culturally appropriate crops,” he explains. For instance, 75 percent of farmers’ market customers in Holyoke are Puerto Rican.

Waltham’s Jeff Cole, executive director of The Federation of Massachusetts Farmers’ Markets, says: “This exposes all of us to new food concepts, recipes and cultures. From my perspective, it is one of the most significant drivers for the explosion of farmers’ markets in our country.”

Some gourds are specifically designed for eating, Cole adds. Others “certainly could be eaten as they are not toxic, just more or less palatable depending on variety.”

And palatability depends on a penchant for bitterness. Unlike pumpkins and squash, most fresh gourds have a sour, bitter taste. Timing is the big key, Cole explains. When young, the rind is soft and the flesh is more succulent. As gourds mature, the flesh hardens, and the rind dries thick and hard.

But while Asians may sup on bitter gourd soup, Concord’s Arena says 95 percent of locally-grown gourds are bought simply for their looks.

“Sometimes when we pick them, we say, ‘What an ugly-looking thing that is. Who would buy it?’” the farmer says with a chuckle, adding, “People come out specifically looking for ugly gourds.”