Tomatoes are picky bitches. Too much sun, not enough sun, too much rain, not enough water, the unending number of diseases a tomato plant can succumb to, and just when you’ve figured everything else out: blossom end rot.
But cherry tomatoes seem impervious to all of that. They just grow. And grow. And grow. And if you stick with them, they will provide 800% of their weight in tomatoes well into Fall. Which is delightful, until it’s not. Because, like so many gardeners, I find myself drowning in cherry tomatoes right into the last weeks of October.
Sure, I can stand over my tomato plants and eat them until my heart dissolves in acid, but I’d still have a literal fuckton of adorable, tiny, evil nightshades to deal with. And, at least in my neck of the woods, everyone has them—growing on patios, on balconies, in tiny spots that won’t host anything else, or hanging from the ugly thing they call a Topsy Turvy. You can’t give them away.
What is a gardener to do?
Narrator: “Stop growing cherry tomatoes”.
No, but really, what am I to do?