Pommes d'amour

The tomato is a member of the nightshade family, as Jon is fond of telling me, and is a berry fruit, even though we use it as a vegetable. It originated in South America (think Aztecs) and was taken back to Spain by the conquistadors. The Spanish very logically considered it to be poisonous, as are other nightshade plants. 

The history of the tomato has many twists and turns, which you can read here if you are curious. The French thought it was an aphrodisiac, hence the name pomme d'amour, or love apple. And in 1883, the US Congress levied a 10% tax on all imported vegetables and decided to reclassify the tomato as a vegetable. This was contested by a botanist in 1893, who argued that the tomato was a berry fruit. He lost his case and the tomato has been legally classified as a vegetable ever since. 

Kinda reminds me of the political shennanigans of today!

This year, I intend to have an awesome tomato crop. 

Because of our wet and cold spring, my tomato plants are growing profusely, but are weeks behind normal development. Which is a problem, because even in a good year we always end up with lots of green tomatoes at the end of the season.

Information accumulation seemed to be in order, so I did a Google and found a great website that pretty much tells all you need to know about growing your basic love apple. Apparently, staking or caging your tomato plants is good for more than keeping the slugs from eating the fruit. It also promotes larger fruit that ripen sooner, are more free of disease, and are easier to pick. 

Well, I know how to take a hint! I have bulldozed through my share of flimsy tomato cages that only last a season or two and topple to the ground at the first sign of actual ripening fruit. Being too cheap frugal to pay the exorbitant amounts of money that sturdier cages cost, I decided to make my own.

From salvaged materials.

So here are the wondrous results.

First, a little number that uses some old canopy poles that have, in past lives, been tripods for cucumbers and runner beans. Some old nylon cord that probably came from the same canopy completes the job.

This baby is constructed with small branches that I saved from the old mimosa tree. 

Plastic ties from nerf gun packaging tie the sticks together.

It's a bit rickety, but by the time Jeff pounded it into the ground, I think it will hold up.

It has a certain rustic charm, don't you think.

Another three-sided cage using the rest of the canopy poles. 

This one has wire instead of string. 

Apparently, we have a plethora of gardening wire.

I had to recruit Jeff for the last one, as a hammer and nails and saw were involved.

I used to wield a hammer with the best of them, but arthritis in my wrists and hands has turned me into a wimp.

So I smile nicely and cajole a little and thank him profusely.

Voila! A cage made of old fence wood for the straggly tomato plant that has been living in the shade of the overgrown kiwi vine. Which is now severely pruned, with strict instructions to produce fruit next year, or else!

Strangely, this plant is the only one that has yet produced any babies.

I bought this next specimen from the high school plant sale. Its tag stated that it would do well in a pot. The leaves and stems are unusually sturdy, so a single stake will do the trick on this one, I think. Unfortunately, the flowers keep dropping off, even though they set little tiny fruit. My research tells me that it could be from too much fertilizer or heat. It hasn't been terribly hot yet, so I'm hoping that my industrious fertilizing will be mitigated as some good watering dilutes the fertilizer.

Ah, the learning curve of an aspiring gardener.

So there you go.

Four-and-a-half tomato cages.

Cost: Nil. Zilch. Nada.

Satisfaction quotient: absurdly high.

My Dad would be so proud.