Last week I was telling some friends about the horrible visitation of diseases in my vegetable garden; they suggested I write a blog post on it to show another side of gardening. I focus here on the pleasures of the garden, visual and culinary; I don't want to write about every disappointment and failure. But failures are many: seeds that don't germinate, plants that don't thrive, damage by insects and woodchucks. This summer's warmth resulted in the largest and most vigorous winter squash and zucchini plants I'd ever grown. But it may be that the warmth, with a lot of rain, encouraged the active growth of mildew. You can see its powdery appearance on the pumpkin vine above, and zucchini leaf below. I took the photos a week ago, and now the pumpkin plant is completely dead, as are the other winter squashes, with ripening fruits without the sustenance coming from the plant. They are almost ripe, so may be edible, but won't be as sweet as they should be.
The zucchini plant, being incredibly tough, is still growing leaves and zucchini, and likely will until frost.
The nightshade family––tomatoes, potatoes, eggplant, though not peppers––are susceptible to blight, which spots and yellows the leaves of the plant from the bottom up, eventually killing them all. All my potato plants died back early, so will likely have smaller potatoes; the tomatoes are badly damaged, especially the determinate paste tomatoes. This leads to a smaller harvest.
Next year I will be prepared: in addition to clearing off this years crop residue, I will plant tomatoes with a new system of trellising for greater air circulation. And I plan to use some organically approved sprays against diseases, something I've avoided so far. All the difficulties in the garden make me very glad I'm not doing this for a living, and make me more appreciative of the hard work and challenges facing those who do.
We just got the late blight, too. I bagged everything that was spotted, and (foolishly, I'm sure) hope the south end of the tomato rows doesn't get it. This is really how it goes. Sad sometimes!
ReplyDeletehi Susan, my blight isn't the dreaded late variety, when the entire plant, including tomatoes, turns black. It's the common early blight, much more easily controllable.
ReplyDeleteI have both. I used to just get early blight, but last year got l. b. before we even ate a potato. This year it has just showed up. I'm going to spray compost tea today but I don't have a lot of hope. We've eaten a lot of tomatoes already, at least! What a nice year for them.
ReplyDeleteI had late blight last year... so far all clear this year in the Catskills. Someone told me that raised beds will protect tomatoes, as of course, rotating nightshade out of their old locations and putting other plants in their stead.
ReplyDeletehi Kim, I've done all the right things to prevent blight, including rotating crops, but the blight still attacks. grrr...
ReplyDeletesorry to hear you have the late blight, Susan. I have some friends who got it last year and it sounded just horrible.
Altoon, I am so glad you did this post. Often people who don't garden imagine it as a sanctuary. Which of course gardening can be sometimes, but it is nature with both enchanting and shadow sides. Since my growing areas are all full urban shade, no veggies for me...but I do have intimate exposure in the Guatemalan project. From that and colleagues and people like you, I know how hard organic gardening is. Like everything, it is a process and I salute you for sharing it's external and internal trajectory!
ReplyDeletePS: I hate how my phone automatically changes "its" to "it's" if I'm not careful...
ReplyDeleteJulie, thanks for echoing the ideas in this post. Gardening has its heartbreaking times; it's best to accept them as part of the process, as they are part of life.
ReplyDeletethere used to be a scientific journal of failed experiments / negative results. I loved this idea - it could prevent useless experiments from being repeated and gave a whole picture. but the journal failed. no one wanted to publish failures (apparently) - not just for egotistical reasons but because linking your name to something that didn't succeed can be a strike against you when it comes to funding.
ReplyDeletewhich is to say, I'm glad to get the full experience of gardening, not just the high lights.
Rappel: what interesting feedback about the failed journal. My small buisness experience echoes what you describe, except substitute "clients" for "funding." I tell landscape design clients one reason they hire us is so they know not to use 90% of the plants they see advertised. How would professionals know that unless we were aware of the failures? And how would we learn it among ourselves unless we shared? Luckily, many of the plants people share generously because we know we don't own or control how plants behave. We are also aware of how global warming is affecting the planet.
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