Seedlings Up For Grabs

So a long time customer just came in with several flats of Tomato starts. There are about 200? They were grown by an organization called seed2need out of Corrales. As I understand it, they grow food on vacant and abandoned lots and donate the food to the food bank system. They grew way too many seedlings this year, so want to share their wealth a little. They only ask that you follow in their footsteps and give some of the tomatoes to the food banks. The Storehouse on Broadway was suggested but there are several. Our customer works at RoadRunner Food Bank, so there is another one to consider.

The Devil Wears Green

The last couple of years I have been having problems with my tomatoes; no wilt or other viruses, just poor growth and minimal fruit. It was bad enough that this year I decided not to grow any tomatoes (all the neighbors grow them anyway and always have enough to share). But my child brought home a bunch of seedlings grown in a Dixie cup for a class project. As I am a sucker for any plants, I could not let them wither no matter that decision. We planted them and, lo and behold, about three took root. This crop has been big, lush, and setting fruit like crazy. Tomatoes seem to be the bell weather for a garden and I was watching them anxiously. Yesterday afternoon I decided the first cherry tomatoes were ready to pick.

So this morning out I go with my coffee and dogs as companions. The air was cool, the ground dewy--perfect for a ceremonial harvest. You can probably see what's coming; the top half of the bushes were completely defoliated! I've seen this before. I expect it in fact. Tomato Horn Worm. Able to strip a plant in a single day. The only caterpillar to eat so voraciously it's audible. Perfectly camouflaged to be nearly invisible.


It is so big and fleshy that it borders the grotesque.

Yet beautiful and almost elegant; apt, as it is the larva of the swallowtail butterfly.


As with all of my garden nemeses, it does have an Achilles heel. I have learned that by following the large black droppings, and by practicing patience and stillness, I can discover them clamped to a branch. This morning I found five resting peacefully. I composted them. And still got my ceremonial harvest.



Yumm.