<body><div><img src="https://img.particlenews.com/image.php?type=thumbnail_580x000&amp;url=1GBRQB_0v5jcDA800" alt="https://img.particlenews.com/image.php?url=1GBRQB_0v5jcDA800" width="600" height="315" >We are in the heart of produce season. It might surprise many of you, but I really enjoy healthy foods, especially tomatoes. Each year I start off in the spring very much optimistic that I will be able to grow my own tomatoes. Then, about this time of the year, reality sets in.As I have gotten older, I have learned to temper my expectations. When Jennifer and I bought our first house I planted a huge garden. I had tomatoes, onions, peppers, corn and even okra. I must be honest, I don’t even like okra, but I planted it.I would start off with a lot of gusto, and for a month or two it would work. I would keep up with the weeding and tending the garden and everything would look good. Then summer would hit.Back then it was the kids’ ball games as well as the farm that took my attention. Finally, along would come the fair, and about this time of the year I would euthanize my garden with the lawn mower.The weeds and bugs would take over, and the good plants would die and go away. In their place would be lots and lots of weeds. I always wondered why the weeds were so hardy and why my vegetables were so sickly.I would drive past gardens that were well tended, and I was jealous. In the back of my mind, I knew those people spent many more hours than I did in the dirt, but it didn’t make me any less jealous. I was lured into it by the promise of cheaper food that tasted better. Those five tomatoes and three ears of corn were some of the most expensive in the world.My mother was a tremendous gardener. She had a huge garden every summer. She canned and froze enough vegetables that we almost never had to buy any. I sure found out that gene wasn’t inherited. My garden languished while hers thrived. At least she shared her bounty with me.Over the years I have slowly given up the dream. My garden got smaller and smaller each year until about three years ago when I consolidated to one of the plastic cattle protein tubs. I didn’t have to do much weeding. It was going to be great. I knew the tubs worked because a friend of mine used them and he had tomatoes coming out his ears.<h2>People are also reading…</h2>Again, everything started out great. The plants were lush and green. They grew and it was easy to keep the weeds out. I had them close to the water hydrant, making it easy to water them. In hindsight maybe that wasn’t such a good thing.About the time they had really set on tomatoes, and I was going to finally get my bumper crop, I killed them. Yes, this was the hydrant I had also used to fill the sprayer. The fumes or something killed them.The next year I decided that I would be smarter, and I moved the tomatoes away from the sprayer fill-up area. Again, they looked great and were really setting on fruit. Then came the heat.My tomatoes went from lush and green to dead in just a week. This might have been from a lack of water because they were no longer near the hydrant.Last year I decided that since we were at the farmers market every week, I would just buy my produce from those who had green thumbs. I really think this system worked very well and if I was honest, I probably saved a lot of money in the end. Some how it just was not very fulfilling. I have a masters in agronomy. I was an extension agent. I should be able to grow my own tomatoes.So, this year I set out to once again grow tomatoes. I planted about a dozen. Yeah, Jennifer said I was over doing it. I just thought more plants gave me better odds to have at least one or two survive. That is the other crazy thing about my tomato obsession. I am the only one in my household that even remotely likes tomatoes. I am crazy about homegrown, fresh tomatoes, and no one else will even touch them.I had abandoned the protein tubs and decided to go back to the ground. I used the raised garden that Jennifer had put together for her strawberries (I am not the only one in our family that failed at gardening). I bought bigger plants, and I felt like I had cheated the system. My tomatoes were big, green and setting fruit on.I could see a red tomato from my kitchen window, and with much joy and a bounce in my step I went out to pick it. That is when I discovered that some sort of wildlife had all but stripped my plants of all their leaves and fruit.To date, I have gotten five tomatoes off my 12 plants, and I would not bet on getting any more.I am not sure what the moral to this story is, other than I should learn my lesson, stay in my lane and be happy with farmers market tomatoes. They make great BLTs.Glenn Brunkow is a fifth-generation farmer in the Northern Flint Hills of Pottawatomie County in Kansas. He was a county Extension educator for 19 years before returning to farm and ranch full time. He can be reached at editorial@midwestmessenger.com.</div></body>

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We are in the heart of produce season. It might surprise many of you, but I really enjoy healthy foods, especially tomatoes. Each year I start off in the spring very much optimistic that I will be able to grow my own tomatoes. Then, about this time of the year, reality sets in.

Great garden aspirations

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We are in the heart of produce season. It might surprise many of you, but I really enjoy healthy foods, especially tomatoes. Each year I start off in the s

Great garden aspirations

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