I got home from the north, fully expecting the wonderful tomato plants I grew--from seed--to be burgeoning with the juicies. Well, they were that--sorta. Make that squishy, black on the bottom, and rotten through.

It's called blossom-end rot. The old wives' tales of my youth told me it was due to too much watering. Hah!--no way. Cow County hasn't had enough water to fill a shot glass this summer. No--turns out it's basically a lack of calcium, which can be brought on by a number of no-nos, all of which I think my garden has: drought stress (no water for long periods, then deluges), acid soil, a high-nitro fertilizer that gets the plant all hot to put out foliage (mine are lush, green, and lovely), and--get this--the wrong kind of calcium.

Okay, I stripped off all the icky-looking fruits (CSI corpses are nothing by comparison) and gave my humonguous, healthy-looking plants a dose of lime. And am praying. Can't hurt. (Cue background choir: Oh, Lord, If it's not asking too much, I'd like just one big, juicy beefsteak tom for Mike's hamburger before winter sets in. Ah-mennnnn.)