B.L.T. (Bit Late for Tomatoes)

I have only four tomato plants in my northern Ontario garden, but they are producing tomatoes faster than I can use them. I’m eating tomato sandwiches for lunch almost every day, and I already have several large bags in the freezer for making soups and sauces. As I look at another day’s pickings hanging red against the withering plants, I can’t help thinking about all the years I couldn’t count on ripe tomatoes before frost, which frequently arrived before the end of August. I brought them in green, carefully wrapped each one in newspaper as per Harrowsmith, lined them up on a basement shelf, and watched them slowly rot. As with much of that back-to-the-land advice, it didn’t work out quite as promised.

I can’t remember exactly when we began to experience frost-free weather through September. Now it’s October, and still no threat to the tomatoes. In fact, we’re setting record-high temperatures. While the trees turn and the leaves fall, people are wearing shorts and crop-tops, and flocking to the beaches for “one last swim”.. 

Almost everyone I encounter raves about this fabulous weather, so I resist the urge to tell them how I really feel. Why rain on their parade? But I don’t share their enthusiasm. Partly, because I really do enjoy fall and—well—this isn’t it. And partly, of course, because it’s such indisputable evidence of a planet in crisis. As if we needed more.

A couple of those tomatoes on my kitchen counter, awaiting my next sandwich, are well past their prime and on their way to the compost. As I lift them from the basket, careful to avoid poking my fingers through their darkening skins, no cloud of fruit flies rises. For the second year in a row, I haven’t pulled the mesh coverings that protect fresh produce from the fruit-fly onslaught out of the cupboard. I haven’t made that mixture of apple cider vinegar and dish soap that traps them by the dozens in narrow-necked vessels. And I haven’t felt compelled to keep the compost pail out on the deck or to empty it daily. 

Last year, when I realized in late August that these annual pests hadn’t shown up, I wondered if I’d suddenly become much cleaner. But there’s not much other evidence for that. And when I asked around, others responded with surprise. “You’re right! No fruit flies. Isn’t it wonderful?”

Well, on one level it certainly is. Just like all the tomatoes. 

But where does this pest fit into the bigger picture? I looked up what critters may miss the fruit flies (or their larvae) more than I do: Hummingbirds. Warblers. Frogs. Wasps. Spiders. Ants. Mites. Beetles. Wild fowl. 

Black flies and mosquitoes weren’t as big a problem as usual this year, either, which made being outdoors in the early summer much more pleasant. For me and probably for you. Funny though—there aren’t nearly as many swallows as there used to be, Or bats, either, I hear. More of a problem for them, I guess.

But none of this is news, is it, unless you’re living under a rock? Maybe, if we’d figured out long ago that it’s not all about us, we wouldn’t be in this mess.

Meanwhile, I guess I’ll make some tomato soup.