The tomatoes received the last pruning of the season this morning. I finally snipped off all the tops, removing any blossoms that won’t have time to set fruit before the cold weather hits. I picked one or two Hungarian Hearts, several (my favourite) Black Krims, and many Stupice and Sweeties. Still no sign of any ripe Romas, Amish Paste, or Persimmons. The Romas always give me trouble; they seem to be the first to succumb to whatever disease is making its rounds. This will be the last year that I plant them. Who needs Romas, anyway? I can make sauce out of any tomato thrown at me.
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