Note to self: the next time you try using one of those upside-down tomato hanging thingies, weld the hanger hook to an I-beam. Duct tape it to a pole. Something.
With gray skies on tap for today, I went around the house and opened the blinds to let in the little available light. Upon rolling up the picture window shade, I was greeted with... a clear view of the street?! Where's my tomatOH MY GOD!!
My tomato was lying in ruins on the porch. Limp and broken stems littered the railing, while the pot itself gazed up at me accusingly. What miserable barbarian would do this to an innocent plant? Who was the fiend responsible for this damage?
Isaac Newton, that's who. Stupid gravity.
It seems that the combined weight of plant, dirt and water was too much for the hook drilled into the porch roof. It pulled right out of its seat and tossed my poor little heirloom tomato to its doom. I surveyed the wreckage. The impatiens planted in the open top survived the ride. The three main tomato stems were still in okay shape, so I snipped off the splintered ends and planted them in a new, ground-based pot. With any luck, they might take off again. The original rootball still had a small stem with a few brave leaves attached, so I left it in the pot.
From my seat at the table, I can see the pot hanging from its new anchor: a six-inch eyebolt. We shall not overwater, but we shall overcome.
Neener, neener to you, Newton!