Staring at the sheathed tomato plants this morning, taking stock of what still needed protection, I was struck by how different they look from row-covered peppers. The ghostly white sheets of spun-bond polyester completely hide the pepper plants, so I can't see them unless I hunch over and peer through the covers. Even then I can detect only their blurred shapes and an occasional leaf or fruit close to the surface of the cloth. But the clear plastic sleeves on the tomato plants hide nothing. In fact, they reveal everything -- stems, leaves, and pendulous fruit -- like a see-through woman's sheath, an in-your-face bit of haute couture from an Italian or Parisian designer. Come to think of it, the row of tomato plants looks somewhat like a parade of avant-garde bridesmaids, each one sheathed in a billow of plastic from head to toe, from the gathering at the top of the one at the bottom. Up close, the effect is even more daring, what with all the holes punched in the plastic to keep the plants from overheating on warm sunny days. But there is no danger of overheating today. Overcast skies, light rain, temperatures in the mid-forties, and a northwest wind, like the end of October or November. Thirty degrees below normal for this final day of the traditional summer season. One of the coldest ends on record.
Carl H. Klaus, My Vegetable Love: A Journal of a Growing Season
