Lest you think we paint too rosy a picture.
Sure. We got problems. Like the Brandywine leaves above, turning a rich yellow, rapidly. I picked them all off not to cure the plant but to see just how rapidly the yellow takes over each large leaf. It must be an imbalance or deficiency. The blossoms are dropping, too, and I have two small green tomatoes after all the fuss of growing them from seed. I know. That's not the point. But, still.
Not to worry: we have Green Zebras.
...yeah. That's the same tomato, flipped. Blossom end rot. Calcium deficiency brought on by fluctuations or extremes in the moisture content of the growing medium. Too dry, too wet, too dry. Consistent moisture prevents this. It has only happened in two pots, and I could have predicted it, noticing how those particular plants sucked up water before the others.
And this. A lone Yellow Pear tomato wilting from the stem down, leaves shriveling and crisping. Two other plants in the same pot are unaffected.
And how about my Physalis, whose leaves disappeared overnight...I knew. I knew at once.
Tobacco hornworm caterpillar. In the green flesh.
He is no more.
So, a lot going on.
And yet, and yet. We have this, too. Squash flowers and squash and peppers and cherry tomatoes and the second Striped German and the first ripe Physalis and roses from the rose that was supposed to die. And even more trout lettuce.
To garden is to experience failure, yet for every plant that keels over there are more that flourish. Gardening is a lot like living - a messy, dirty experience whose occasional rewards make up for a great deal of time spent on your knees.