Garden Chernobyl
Be careful what you ask for. Be very, very careful what you ask for.
Last summer, we couldn't buy a drop of rain. This summer we're begging for the rain to stop. In June, Dallas had more than 32 inches of rain. That's twice the June rainfall total in 2006.
I knew my garden wouldn't be a pretty sight upon my return from a weeklong stay in Colorado. Torrential downpours don't exactly spell garden gold. But the actual state in which I found my garden this evening was more horrendous than I could have imagined. Half my perennial bed is in a horticultural coma, the compost pile looks like toxic sludge, and the tomatoes....oh lord, the tomatoes... Cracking! Blossom-end rot! And half-eaten by my evil garden nemesis: THE TOMATO HORNWORM! Yes, that dreaded villain of the tomato vine so gargantuan that it leaves visible waste droppings. (Cut to Callie losing her lunch.) When it comes to tomato hornworms, all of my motherly tendencies fly out the window. After spotting the little devils, I plucked them off the vine and threw them over the fence into the alley where they landed with a satisfying SPLAT.
I can't remember a time when I didn't feel like being in the garden. But tonight is officially the first time that I wanted to run out of the garden with my head covered. "Take shelter! It's a garden mutiny!"
After throwing a third of the ripe tomatoes into the compost pile because of one ailment or another, I sacrificed what I could and retreated into the kitchen. I'll be spending the rest of this miserably wet evening creating a list of plants to be removed or cutback and dreaming of my return to Colorado, land of happy and healthy plants. (Sigh.) Click on the thumbnails below for a peek at the carnage.
