By early spring, I’m dreaming of the promise of delicious, home-grown tomatoes. They are one of the great summer pleasures, succulent, sweet, and refreshing on a hot day.
When the goddess of gardens bestows her goodness on a crop, I bow to her greatness. I no longer take credit for a good season, nor do I blame myself for a mediocre one. Tomatoes are a fussy lot, requiring wind, but not too much; heat, but not excessive; just the right amount of water; and a placement in the garden that would make a garden landscaper proud.
If you find locations for your tomato plants that are akin to a witness protection program, you might avoid nasty pests like hornworms, aphids, whiteflies, and spider mites. That said, no guarantees.
When I traveled to Ohio for a week in July, I made sure that the men at home checked on the fruit production daily. You would think we were raising chicks instead of tomatoes.
All this fuss has been worth it. Both the Beefsteak and the Cherry Tomato plants have produced mouthwatering fruit. We’ve enjoyed caprese salads, improved lunchtime sandwiches, enhanced green salads, and popped cherry tomatoes as a snack.
I harvested this magnificent crop of Beefsteak tomatoes on August 3. Tomato carnage began three days later.
The first and largest tomato on the vine was the first to go. Just a few nibbles at first, but of course, more followed. In the ensuing days, I found a tomato splattered on the walkway, half-eaten fruit on the plant, and, comically, some critter dragged the remains of a tomato half way up the bougainvillea. Meanwhile, the plant continues to grow taller, parallel to the self-seeded sunflower, but as we head into September, it’s all but done.
All is not lost, though. The cherry tomato plant appears free of fruit until you peek behind the foliage. Tiny orbs of goodness continue to color unmolested, sure to delight our taste buds for a few more weeks.
We will enjoy every last one.
Gardening Nirvana 