The forecasted period of chill and rain should it transpire, as it probably will, means a hardship for Tomato. They kind of get stuck when they shiver and when they get stuck they're unable to outgrow those more invisible Poxes that find damp and chill invigorating. Another theory is never put out the Tomato until something like the middle of June. A third theory involves indoor/outdoor carpeting, gravel, exotic concrete statuary and an investment in herbicides. A fifth theory is to find another habitable planet to live upon, which as I understand it is a high hope in some quarters, apparently there are billions of them out there, all of them like Eden, and many of them ideal for Tomato, clockwork seasons and totally devoid of any kind of Tomato Pox.
The more sensitive synapses might recognize an ennui and might worry a little
about the kind of mental imbalance that leads to random acts in the vague hope
that somethin might work. The sort of lunatic behavior that involves digging up
the Tomato, repotting them, finding a warm dry space in the kitchen so they
might spend their Sunday and Monday morning in some degree of comfort. Mind you,
many years ago when I still had eight good hours a day in my body, I had
suggested I dig a four foot deep and five foot wide Mole barrier all the way
around the Vegetable Garden. It was a brilliant idea and had I not fallen to a
shyness around the eyebrows raised by the idea's detractors, Snow Peas might be
in better fettle.