Tomato time
It seems really late in the year to still be expecting tomatoes.
I am not sure if this is true or not since I know nothing about gardening. I guess this mindset comes from the fact that when I was in college I always had to go back to Bluffton before the major wave of tomato crop hit the picnic table we had sitting on the back stoop. (That's the place Dad put them to let them ripen up after picking).
Now, the end of the month is creeping up and we still have a TON of green tomatoes on Aaron's plants.
I believe I have talked about these plants before. Aaron told me that they were almost touching the edge of the roof before they started baring so much fruit that they fell over and grow into this huge jungle of vines. They are the best tomato plants ever - because they are hilarious. I've called them the monster bushes and sometimes the tomato jungle. Both are very accurate.
The weird thing is that Aaron and I have been "keeping up" with these bushes. They have yet to produce so many tomatoes that we can't eat them all. I use them for sauces and we polish off a lot at supper. (Well, I have a normal amount. My brother has a lot). I canned three pints of salsa already but would happily do more or can marinara sauce, but nope. There isn't enough yet. I am a little afraid the "wave" is going to come this coming week while I am in Kansas. I guess that would be fitting to my theme of "leaving before the tomatoes come" theory.
Anyway, one of the points I wanted to make in this blog isn't really a point at all - but rather a confession. Here it is.
I am the best at not watering plants.
This summer my dad gave me a potted tomato plant to live with me in Chicago. I was really excited. Krista, my hostess, had planted a few in her front "yard" and was determined to keep them alive because she, like me, never remembers to water a thing. Chicago got hit with a ton of rain this summer, so things were fine. Well, at least Krista's plants were.
I like to believe this really isn't my fault. Sanford told me that the pot the tomato plant came in was going to biodegrade - which is true, I am sure, but maybe for not another 5 to 10 years (just like those dumb sun chips bags). So since that never happened the tomato plant is still in its container inside a bigger pot. I think the roots could never live up to their potential. That is why I only got 2/3 tomatoes from this plant and they were baby small and looked almost like they are the verge of death.
I brought this plant back down with me after Chicago time was over (mostly because I want to keep the planter pot). I thought that maybe sitting by the monster bushes, my baby plant would be inspired by its green cousins. Not so much.
This is my tomato plant.
These are my brother's.
Big difference.
Tonight I pulled the last little tomato off of it. Next, will be throwing it in the compost pile.
Maybe next season I'll do better.
I am not sure if this is true or not since I know nothing about gardening. I guess this mindset comes from the fact that when I was in college I always had to go back to Bluffton before the major wave of tomato crop hit the picnic table we had sitting on the back stoop. (That's the place Dad put them to let them ripen up after picking).
Now, the end of the month is creeping up and we still have a TON of green tomatoes on Aaron's plants.
I believe I have talked about these plants before. Aaron told me that they were almost touching the edge of the roof before they started baring so much fruit that they fell over and grow into this huge jungle of vines. They are the best tomato plants ever - because they are hilarious. I've called them the monster bushes and sometimes the tomato jungle. Both are very accurate.
The weird thing is that Aaron and I have been "keeping up" with these bushes. They have yet to produce so many tomatoes that we can't eat them all. I use them for sauces and we polish off a lot at supper. (Well, I have a normal amount. My brother has a lot). I canned three pints of salsa already but would happily do more or can marinara sauce, but nope. There isn't enough yet. I am a little afraid the "wave" is going to come this coming week while I am in Kansas. I guess that would be fitting to my theme of "leaving before the tomatoes come" theory.
Anyway, one of the points I wanted to make in this blog isn't really a point at all - but rather a confession. Here it is.
I am the best at not watering plants.
This summer my dad gave me a potted tomato plant to live with me in Chicago. I was really excited. Krista, my hostess, had planted a few in her front "yard" and was determined to keep them alive because she, like me, never remembers to water a thing. Chicago got hit with a ton of rain this summer, so things were fine. Well, at least Krista's plants were.
I like to believe this really isn't my fault. Sanford told me that the pot the tomato plant came in was going to biodegrade - which is true, I am sure, but maybe for not another 5 to 10 years (just like those dumb sun chips bags). So since that never happened the tomato plant is still in its container inside a bigger pot. I think the roots could never live up to their potential. That is why I only got 2/3 tomatoes from this plant and they were baby small and looked almost like they are the verge of death.
I brought this plant back down with me after Chicago time was over (mostly because I want to keep the planter pot). I thought that maybe sitting by the monster bushes, my baby plant would be inspired by its green cousins. Not so much.
This is my tomato plant.
These are my brother's.
Big difference.
Tonight I pulled the last little tomato off of it. Next, will be throwing it in the compost pile.
Maybe next season I'll do better.
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