'Ff'lo (fflo) wrote,

the tale of the tomatoes

So, the other night I threw up a little rudimentary chicken wire fencing to try to keep (what I'm guessing was) my friendly neighborhood woodchuck from munching on my tomatoes some more. Alas, I was pretty sure it would be an uphill battle for Kellogg's Breakfast and Pruden's Purple, and both the Pineapple and the Brandywine seemed sure goners. The hearty, sky-rocketing Cosmonaut Volkov lost all his top leaves, but seemed to stand a good chance of survival. As of last night, though, they all seemed to have a chance---even Brandywine, which looks to be spurting leaves off its main stalk outta nowhere, despite having had only one lonesome leaf left on the plant after the creature's bellying up to the salad bar (as Beth called it). All still thumbs up for Better Boy, the only one in the cluster the varmint skipped, and Aunt Lillian's Yellow Heirloom (though that one's still small, and its leaves are a little yellow), and Ethel Watkins' Best, and Sainte Lucie, and Costoluto Genovese. Glad there's some sun out there today.

It's a long season for a rank amateur, though. Perhaps by August I'll be glad I got carried away in planting, if only ten or twenty percent of these life forms make it to fruit-bearing. Next up is shoring up the fencing, with some provision for ingress/egress. Then maybe bolster the mulching---I ran out of my recycled straw, but might can round up a little more from the spring grass project. Them daggoned mosquitoes have really been messing with my getting anything done out there in the evenings---I still have half the berry patch to clear of little trees, dead cane, and thistles. Not to mention a dozen other mere maintenance projects.

Fighting off a headache today. First one of these queasy, sound-/light-/motion-hating ones I've had in a helluva long time. My eyeballs are sore.

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