This past spring I waited until the last minute to buy some tomato plants at the garden center. They were pretty picked over, so I grabbed a 4-pack of Beefmasters and headed home to plant. I already had 2 volunteer tomato plants in one of my beds, but I didn't know what the fruit would be like, so I wanted some plants I knew would produce big slicers.
I went ahead and pounded some stakes in when I planted, and even suckered them a few times, and tied them to their stakes once.
Then for some reason that is still unclear I neglected to visit the tomato area for several days. By the time I made it back to that area there were suckers the size of my thumb shooting off in all directions. The plants had grown so much that I was unable to tie them up without breaking stems in the process.
There was only one solution: Give up! It's important to know when you've been beat, admit it to yourself, and move forward appropriately.
In a perfect world the gardener would have removed every sucker and preserved the main vine, which would then be secured the to the stake. Bottom stems and leaves would be regularly pruned, as disease organisms often get splashed onto lower leaves. A neat appearance and easy access to large and delectable fruit would be assured.
What actually happened: The vines grew in every direction, sprawling out of their beds and into paths, making access difficult. They developed spots, yellowing, and eventually dead leaves on the oldest stems. They also produced a manure-ton of tomatoes. The volunteers made dozens of sweet, meaty fruits the size of a small fist. The Beefmasters pumped out huge and solid tomatoes. The chickens made out like bandits with the extras.
When the yellow spots started appearing I rallied and tried to prune the lower leaves, but the writhing mass of tomato plant matter proved stronger than my will. Nature took its course. The older parts of the plant died off at the same rate the other end was growing, flowering, and fruiting.
You don't always have to do what the gardening books say. If fact it's best to experiment to find out what works, and what best suits you and your gardening site. My inadvertent experiment might not have worked were Beefmasters not resistant to the wilts and blights that plague tomato plants. On the other hand, my volunteers, with unknown characteristics, performed just as well. The major drawback I experienced was having pathways blocked by vines. For someone with lots of space, and very little time, this method of benign neglect would work very well.
The term STUN, which stands for sheer, total, utter neglect, was coined by permaculturist Mark Shepard to describe his method of doing as little work as possible after planting. Getting over the need to do things the "right way " and have our gardens (and all sorts of other things) look a certain way, frees us to find the methods that work best for each of us.
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