Don't laugh at the Baby Jesus!

Initially, I was going to add a disclaimer in the title of this post to indicate that some people with deeply held Christian beliefs might find it slightly childish or even mildly offensive, but then I thought about Christianity in general, and realised that even if you do find it offensive, you'll forgive me. So, what has the Baby Jesus got to do with gardening?

Well, after discussing my potential blossom end rot in the last post, a number of you pointed out that it was probably blight. I did wonder, because it only affected the Black Krim (which when not ill are bloody delicious, so fear not if you've bought seeds). The cherry tomatoes were right next to the Black Krim, and they were pumping out good looking red fruit.

I did a few a bit of digging (not literally), and guess what? Yes, every image of blight I saw looked like my tomatoes. How could this be? Well, I ventured outside and took a look at my cherry tomatoes, and what I saw filled me with dread. It was this...



Yes indeed, folks, it seems that I do have the blight. In fact, I am completely blighted up. I have so much blight, my blight has got blight. It's probably late blight, because ... well, it's late. And it's blight. I think we'll pronounce time of death and move on, shall we?

Okay, those with good memories will be wondering what this all has to do with the Baby Jesus. Well, I blame him, I do. He did the blight to me. Well, when I say I blame him, I really mean I blame myself, because I did - in this bloggery right here - mock him. Yes, I did, and I'm man enough to admit it. Way back when this gardening adventure was still fun and games, I mentioned that I would be following the tradition of planting out my potatoes on Good Friday. I then went on to question quite what the Baby Jesus getting nailed to a tree had to do with potatoes.

Now, it might seem like a mild mocking he got there, but he is a vengeful God, so he waited. He watched me in my garden, and he saw which plants I struggled with most. Then he saw that the tomatoes were a labour of love, and he wrote that down on a tablet (well, he probably got an Angel to do that bit for him, because he had other Godly stuff to be getting on with).

Then he allowed me to taste the sweetness and goodness that was the tomatoes; just a little taste, mind. Just enough to get me hooked. Then he sent down the plague of blightyness. Like Pharaoh's men, I was smote. Now, you might be wondering why I think this is the work of the Baby Jesus, and I'll tell you why. I looked very closely at one of the blight marks, and guess what I saw...



Mind you, I don't blame him. I mocked him, and he slapped me over it. What's worse, I'll probably do it again because I'm an Idiot, but please fellow gardeners, if you want fresh and fruity tomatoes, just don't laugh at the Baby Jesus!