Fall keeps gusting in and out, but even the persistence of clear weather cannot defeat the earth's tilt. With the shrinking of the daylight, most of the plants call it quits, at least as far as producing anything new. Leaves gray with mildew, roots routing a last bit of energy to seeds along stems stepped on, chewed at, tunneled through ad generally abused by the growing season.
Why then does the tropical vine keep going?
Lycopersicon pimpenellifolium, the 'wild tomato' that I would snack on from Kealakekua to Nualolo, a rampant vine I've also seen described as the 'wild Everglades tomato.' Jungly cloak of tropical shores and clearings, 30-foot tentacles flowing over lava and helping ancient sites return to obscurity. Why so fat and happy north of 45 degrees, in the legendarily cool and wet Northwest?
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