A frost-less winter had me ready to write a breathy tribute to my great success in overwintering last season’s tomatoes — a pair of Beefsteaks and a Husky Cherry — despite the fact that I put no effort into the overwintering and had even less to do with whether or not our region had a frosty December.
This yard’s hardly hubris-worthy, for now, and if my current losing battle with a lone grasshopper isn’t enough to rein in a bought of unproductive pride, then the time I spent today tearing up and tossing out those triumphant tomatoes should be.
And it’s not like they burst onto the spring scene as paragons of this South American native. They were just doing better than the season before, which is a pretty low bar. Last year I grew them from seed, planted them in the yard, then watched as they were successively mowed down by varmints every time they sprouted above a few inches. The fact that they rebounded while the pests slept off their summer bender and had become bushy and a few feet tall had me talking of perennial tomatoes that produce year-round.
Well, mild weather overwinters more than plants. The first indications that these tomatoes were ill-fated was present almost from moment the cold weather lifted. Many of the leaves developed what looked like a yellow rash, and the plants lost their healthy deep green. Growth ceased. Flowers wouldn’t set fruit. Inputs of fresh compost from our pile and iron-rich mulch failed to counter what looked like a nutrient deficiency. The soil was neither too wet nor too dry.
A local nursery identified a sample I provided as having spider mites, an incredibly tiny (less than 1 mm) insect that spins silk webbing on the undersides of leaves. The mite punctures and feeds on individual plant cells, and when the weather is warm and dry (i.e., no frost), eggs can hatch in three days and the young can be sexually mature in five. Like aphids, this is a reproductive cycle that can be hard to keep pace with — especially in a chemical-free yard.
The overwintered tomatoes were inundated. Nearly every leaf had the sallow look of infestation.
A strong blast of water can dislodge the mites, which once knocked to the ground are unlikely to find their way back to a leaf. However, the density was such that even regular, repeated washings failed to impact the population. I combined the spraying with a light, weekly application of an organic pesticide called End All (a sterling non sequitur). The fact that the packaging included several prominent references to the product’s organic merits, and that the company went by the name “Safer”, made me skeptical. However, it came highly recommended, so I gave it a try. It, too, failed to significantly reduce the number of mites after several weeks. In a desperate move, I trimmed off every branch with a hint of discoloration, denuding the plants, but this also failed.
The final blow came when the tomatoes began to develop powdery mildew, perhaps as a result of the frequent dousing the leaves received in my attempt to wash away the spider mites. Fearing that the mites and the mildew would spread to this season’s Brandywine, Yellow Pear, Gardener’s Delight Cherry, Ace, and Cherokee Purple — I pulled those tomatoes that overwintered out, not even giving them the dignity of the compost pile to avoid risking contamination and encouraging future outbreaks.
So the brilliantly overwintered tomatoes now sit in the trash, annuals after all.
I am so sorry for your loss. You did the right thing. You definitely don’t want those invading your other plants.
I like to push the envelope too. It’s always worth a try.