As a child, I grew up surrounded by wonderful vegetable gardens. My mother had a small patch, a place where she could find her peace – starting with a row of corn, some lettuce, and tomatoes. As she had more children, she grew more variety – pumpkins, peppers, and more tomatoes. She learned from my Grandpa Jack. He had a large garden, rows and rows of corn, berries, asparagus, peppers, and lots and lots of tomatoes.
When my husband and I bought our house, the first plant I grew was a tomato. It was a harsh end to our first winter, and I was conducting a science experiment of sorts by planting only varieties that had been beaten up by the weather and were no longer sellable. I thought that if a veggie start had already survived the hail and rain, it could certainly handle the rough state of my yard. I planted them in an odd collection of pots on my back porch because I didn’t have the ground prepared yet. Amongst major yard remodeling, poor growing conditions, and finicky weather, three different varieties of cherry tomatoes were produced against all odds.
My Grandpa Jack came over to help water my tomatoes while I was on vacation. I called to check in on them. I asked him what he thought of my rough, tough garden, and he replied, “Your plants look hungry, and why the heck did you plant yellow pear tomatoes!” He was in my yard the next week, removing stumps so that my tomatoes would have optimal sunlight for the next growing season.
The following year, I skipped the yellow pears. I planted only the orange cherry tomatoes, my favorite. This time, I planted them in my mom’s yard because my ground was still not quite ready to plant. I got a call; it was Grandpa Jack asking how my tomatoes were doing. I confessed they were not in my yard, but they were doing alright. The following month, Grandpa Jack was in my yard, dumping mulch so that the next growing season, my tomatoes would have the proper nutrients. The following year, I told myself I would have the space for a proper garden with tomatoes. By the season’s end, I was sick of only eating sweet orange cherry tomatoes. I dreamt all winter of homegrown slicing tomatoes and sauce tomatoes.
In the third year, I did not plant any cherry tomatoes. I also did not plant any slicing or saucing tomatoes I had been dreaming of. I was so busy tending to my infant that I did not take the time to grow anything. Thankfully, Grandpa Jack did. So while Great-Grandpa Jack had his hands full with his great-grandchild, I had my hands full of his homegrown tomatoes. Every week, a fresh bucket of slicing and stewing tomatoes was collected, with a pocket of orange cherry tomatoes for the road. He pointed and showed me where to pick, where to trim, and how to eat! He was preparing the gardener for ideal tomato crops for the next growing season.
This year, I do not have Grandpa Jack to come into my yard and improve conditions. I have knowledge, a yard, and a patch of unprepared ground- with good soil and full sun. With all of these tools, I am bound and determined to have as many tomatoes as my growing family can eat. I fully expect that we will test that limit like a science experiment of sorts. I will have numerous varieties, some for slicing, some for saucing, and some cherry tomatoes for eating. When our bellies get too full, we will freeze the best tomatoes, so that we can dream about eating them during the winter.
Then, in the following years, I will perfect my tomato growing. As I sit in the sunshine with my family, digging in the good mulch, I will point and show where to pick, and as we eat, I will share stories about Great-Grandpa Jack and how he taught me to grow all the good tomatoes and yes, the yellow pear tomatoes too.
