Woe is me!
We came back home after a few days away
and I hurried to check the garden. The only successful plants we have
are six heirloom tomatoes, six heirloom peppers, a BUNCH of Picklebush cucumber and one tenacious (yet unfortunately unlabeled)
melon. The peppers hadn't been doing so well, being the apparent
favorite of the local pest population. Poor babies have put so much
energy into trying to replace leaves that they haven't even flowered
yet. Thus, I was devastated to discover one plant had been stripped
of EVERY SINGLE LEAF. Only a sad, sad little stem with bare branches
remained. GASP. I hurried to
check the remaining peppers and couldn't find one. Whaa? Then I
realized that one of my tomato plants had flopped over under its own
weight and crushed the neighboring pepper. Tomato plant is fine, but
the pepper plant's stem was broken. If you're keeping track, that makes it: Murphy's law: 2, peppers: 4.
There was one
tomato plant in general that I'd been concerned about: my Amish
Paste. It's the only indeterminate tomato I've got going on right
now. This means that unlike determinate types, which stop growing at
a certain height, it will keep going and going and going... until the
weather cools enough for it to stop. Last week I decided that its
sprawl was going to have to be checked, so I sort of wrestled it into
a cage. Well, nobody likes a cage. Now, the poor darling is positively
infested with aphids. I saw a few ladybugs hurrying around, making
meals of the little bastards, but there's only so much a lady can do!
By pushing the plant's branches and leaves closer together, I'd cut
off air and sunlight to a sizable portion of the big beauty. Pests
just LOVE this scenario. I decided to bite the bullet and prune some
of the suckers and smaller branches to let some air circulate.
(Determinate tomatoes don't really care for this treatment, by the
way, but apparently you can get away with it on some indeterminate
plants.) As I was digging around in this massive plant, I noticed
that several stalks had actually broken themselves against the cage
wire... including the only branch with fruit. DOUBLE-GASP!
“That's IT!” I
thought. She hates the cage, I'm letting her out. You should have
seen what a production that was. Carefully threading branches
back through, gently shimmying the cage as I lifted it, crooning
apologetically to the plant. (That last bit shouldn't surprise anyone
who knows me.) After about 30 minutes, I had her free. She flopped
open, somewhat gratefully, I thought. And then I spotted IT. A huge
long caterpillar with a spike on its butt. EWWW. Quick, run inside
and Google it! Tomato hornworm, says what?? Ohh, they're bad mamma-jammas,
alright. So I snipped the stem he was hanging from and hung it near a
little bird's nest I know. (Oh, yes I did!) Apparently, wasps will
use the nasty buggers to lay their eggs. When baby wasps hatch,
instant baby food! MWAHAHAA.-- #naturerox --But I didn't want to risk a pregnant
wasp NOT buzzing across it. He'll just have to take his chances with
the birds.
Either way, I'm
very very sad about the state of affairs out there. The good news?
That melon ain't takin' no crap from no body. Go melon go! Also, our
cucumbers are just thriving. I even saw a few curly little
vines just looking for somewhere to go. So, trellises all around and
a new stake system for the tommy-toes. No more cages, unless I
start them out that way next year. And this evening, after it cools off a
little, I'll be bringing a heaping helping of my homemade pest
repellent: garlic/cayenne pepper spray. See how the buggers like a
little HEAT with their meals. Say hello to my steenky friend!
Wish us luck!
