Dithering over the squash

It has been hot and humid here in London, Ontario. The perfect conditions for mildew to form on most of the squash leaves. I have read up on many of the suggested organic methods to treat mildew, but sometimes I feel that it might be best to yank the plants out, and settle with the few fruits and vegetables they have produced. I really do try to let one zucchini squash grow nice and big, so I can save the seeds for next year. Yellow zucchini has been more difficult to buy lately. But, the typical organic treatments that I have found to prolong the squash despite having mildew have been a powdered milk spray and a blend of vegetable oil, dish soap and water. Both sprays only last until it rains, and washes them off. The same for a hot pepper and garlic spray for the beans, which have been chewed in spots by some very well fed beetles.
However, tomato blight has yet to appear, and tomato gardeners are leaping with joy. My tomatoes become like children to me, I watch them sprout as seedlings, I water them gently, harden them off in the hot house, transplant into a bed of well composted horse manure, watered with rain water from the barrel, tied up to invite every flower to produce....only to have them fail, withering away, with no sun-ripened gifts. I cried last year.
This weekend, I often stop in my kitchen to admire my collection of heirloom tomatoes. I arrange them like they were flowers, some yellow pears, some zebra cherries, some pink ping pongs, some Siberian Glasnosts, and some moonglows. They are too pretty to eat. But I will. Drizzled with some balsamic vinegar, sesame oil, fresh cracked pepper and Andean pink salt.
While I am dazzled by such beauty, I reflect on the fact that I am indeed becoming the tomato, or does the tomato become me? Brian Swimme Ph.D, asked once when does something become ourselves? When it enters our mouth and is swallowed? When we drink water and it becomes enlivened within us, can it not be alive and 'me' outside my body? The boundaries that we have constructed and reinforce are a false dualism. All the minerals of the soils, the gift of light photons from the sun, the water that fell as rain, and the biotic life all become "tomato" - through ingesting this beautiful food, we literally become our place and ultimately, our planet and universe. Knowing and celebrating this makes me happy, more fulfilled and centered. This is something that I know is real, reliable, and at great risk from our non-fulfilling, industrial worldview.