The first disappointment of the year

This year isn’t off to a great start for me, and it only took three days: This year is repeating a disappointment I already experienced. Days of heavy rain have returned, too. Years may change, but that doesn’t mean that things within them do.

Yesterday evening, I went out to check on my tomatoes before I watered them, something I do every evening. I discovered that the first ripening tomato, which I talked about a week ago today, had visible rot: Blossom end rot has returned. That’s the same thing that ruined my tomato crop two years ago, the last time I tried to grow tomatoes.

Blossom end rot is caused by the plant not taking up calcium, and that usually happens because of insufficient water. The cells at the blossom end (what we’d think of as the bottom of the tomato) die and begin to rot, eventually consuming the core of the fruit. The good part of the tomato is edible, but you have to get to it quickly, probably while it’s still green.

Tomato plants that are in the ground need a deep watering at least once a week, and ones in pots probably every day. I’ve always known this, and I’ve always watered my potted tomato plants daily(except on rainy days, though I still check on them). This is the second of only two seasons this has happened to my tomato crop, and it’s only happened in Hamilton: It never happened in Auckland or Paeroa.

The advice I found was to add calcium to the soil at planting (too late), and to feed the plants with liquid tomato food. I’ve never done either, and never had this problem anywhere but here in Hamilton. This leads me to wonder, what’s different about this place?

The only thing I could think of is that I’m growing them next to my concrete patio. Is it too hot for them? It seems improbable—plenty of New Zealanders do the exact same thing, and tomatoes do well with hot summer weather. I simply can’t think of anything else that’s different to the other places I’ve successfully grown tomatoes.

Two years ago, I harvested my tomatoes while they were still green in order to get any at all, and I may have to do the same again this year. Once the rot starts, it’s useless to to wait for the tomato to ripen because the whole tomato will start to rot, like the one I checked on. The same advice said it’s often just the first fruit to ripen, but I think that probably only applies to things like citrus (which are currently also in pots next to my patio…), because I certainly didn’t see that two years ago.

The question is, what now?! I’m reluctant to throw more money at this, given the uncertainty that anything will help. Moving the plants isn’t an option, mostly because tomato plants are quite fragile. Harvesting the tomatoes while they’re green may be my only option.

Two years ago, I decided to give up on growing tomatoes, a decision that was reinforced when the final Covid lockdown hit last year at exactly the time I should’ve been planting. Maybe this time I’ll finally get the message and give up?

My first thought after my discovery was exactly that—I should give up on growing tomatoes. My second thought was that I was glad I didn’t plant even more stuff, as I’d originally planned. As it is, most of the seeds I planted never sprouted, and the coriander plants were all eaten by bugs. Little wonder it feels like nature, or the Hamilton climate, is telling me to give up.

After my discovery, and mentally counting up all the gardening failures at this house, I thought that I should sell the VegePod and the planters I originally bought for the citrus(but then decided not to use for that—I had pans to use them for raised garden beds instead). I was so discouraged that I went back in the house without watering the plants, and just sulked a bit. I did eventually go back out and water the plants in case the rain didn’t arrive today (it did).

I’d also considered mowing my front lawn (at least) yesterday evening, to get them sorted before the rainstorms began. However, the when tomato incident happened, it was already later than I’d mow, so by the time I was done watering the plants it was too late (it was nearly 8pm by then). I’m hoping that the lawns don’t turn into a jungle by the time the rainstorms stop in a few days or so—or, more likely, that there’s a long enough break in the rain that I can get them mowed.

This latest disappointment is just another among so very many over the past few years, though it’s also among the least important, obviously. Regardless, it makes me think maybe it’s time to refocus my attention and energy, such as it is, onto things that aren’t steeped in disappointment and that won’t cost me money for the privilege of experiencing it.

I need to plant the seeds of projects that won’t be so disappointing and discouraging. I just need to figure out what that could be.