DF tried to winter over a trio of tomato plants last fall. He pruned them back severely and put them under a grow light in the basement, figuring the cool temperature would keep them from sprouting too much new growth.
The no-grow tactic worked a little too well. by winter solstice, one of the plants looked extremely sad and the others were bordering on despair. So he brought the best-looking one upstairs, along with the light, and set it next to our kitchen table.
The plan was to coax it back to life, not to create food just yet. That way he’d have a nice big plant to put in the greenhouse in late May to encourage the seedlings he’ll be starting this week. Meanwhile, the green encouraged us during this particularly snowy and cold winter.
When the plant showed signs of survival, we rejoiced; when it started putting out flowers, we laughed and pinched them off. No chance we were going to pollinate those blooms. The focus was surviving, not thriving. And survive it has, putting out loads of new growth and so many blossoms that we gave up pinching. It could bloom all it wanted, but we weren’t going to hand-pollinate any of them.
A week or so ago during dinner, DF did a double-take. “There’s a tomato,” he said.
Our best guess is the blossom was jostled just enough to shake loose some pollen. Maybe it was us walking past the table. Perhaps a small earthquake* did the honors. Could have been one of the fruit flies that recently hatched out of the bananas; we’d seen the little winged Lotharios buzzing the branches.
In the film “Jurassic Park,” Jeff Goldblum warned the scientists that “life finds a way.” It does.
Tomato tenacity
Who knows whether this little green marble (see the illustration above) will survive, let alone ripen? If the overall vigor of the plant is any indication, it just might. Here’s what the critter looks like today:
In fact, the plant was doing so well that it sent a branch cascading off the right side of the pot. DF set a second pot of soil under that leaning branch, partly covered it with dirt and weighted it down in two places with a stone and a canning jar full of water. Both were genius moves, since they’ll absorb the sun that comes in through the window and the heat that rises up from the baseboard. They’ll add warmth to the plant all through the night.
If they set down roots, this means an additional two plants come May. Or sooner; he’s thinking about checking them next week, and if they’ve rooted he’s going to clip them free from the mother ship, pot them separately and ease tomato cages into both pots. As you can see from the photo, the plant on the left is way too vigorous to contain with a metal framework. We’ll have to support it with strings tied to a greenhouse beam and prop up the branches if they become too heavy with fruit.
It’s hard to explain what this tomato means during this tough winter. Thank goodness for the snowblower, but some areas need to be dug out by hand – and the berms are so high it’s difficult to throw shovelfuls of snow on top. Here’s a photo of the greenhouse from Jan. 31; keep in mind that it’s snowed a bunch of times since then.
It’s cold, it’s snowy, it’s slippery and I am taking it all very personally, especially since last summer was unusually cold and gray. But as I’ve said before, gardening is the definition of hope. And by gum, we might be eating tomatoes by the time we open that greenhouse. Life finds a way, indeed.
Readers: How’s winter by you? And when will spring return to your neck of the woods?
*We had a temblor the other day that finally got me out of bed. I’d been having a lie-in, dozing and waking, but whenever I feel an earthquake I am suddenly very, very alert. It was only 3.4 but it sure sharpened my focus.
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Yesterday, in PA, I saw a flock of geese flying and my first bunch of Robin’s, so I know Spring is right around the corner. Don’t have to look at the calendar! Funny, but my hyacinths are at my front sunny wall and were poking up in January. We sure have weird weather! One of the weathermen I watch thinks we will have snow yet the end of March, so we shall see.
Oh, I hope not…would hate to see the hyacinths take a beating.
I will hold those robins in my heart until I can finally see the ground once more.
Not much snow here in NW NJ but there is always March to get through.
That tomato is a wonder! Who would have thought?
If it worked in Anchorage, it may work in Fairbanks so next year I am going to try it! 27 below when I got up this morning, so a thriving tomato plant would be a nice sight to see.
The Redwinged Blackbirds have returned to the cove behind my house. They love to nest in the hummocks and Cat-O-Nine Tails. That’s always the first sign of Spring for me here in Massachusetts.
The winter has not been a bad one as far as snow is concerned. I’ve heard varying amounts but apparently we have 22 to 30 less snow cover days than we had 40 years ago. I’m not complaining about less snow to deal with but the scientific reasoning is climate change which is a frightening conclusion in such a short amount of time.
I heard my first red-winged blackbird this past Sunday morning, on a walk with friends around a nearby pond. In view of today’s snow, I hope he’s not regretting his decision to come north this early!
And while I don’t have a winter tomato to show, I’ve been keeping my green thumb occupied by potting and repotting houseplants.
you can prune that vigorous plant like stink, stuff the pruned bits into jar(s) of water and they will root. I usually do this in the big greenhouse in the summer, with the first plants I prune (and I really prune my plants, keeps the mold down and air moving and apparently they set and hold fruit better). In the greenhouse, I just poke a hole in the soil beside the older plants, and as long as I keep that soil moist, the plants will start.
In my experience, a vigorous plant’s cuttings will outpace a slower regular start of the same height, even if it is just ‘plunked into the ground’. The vigour translates to fast recovery and fast growth.
So glad you are enjoying your green and glorious promise of spring/summer
We definitely prune all summer long, to prevent fungus or mold. Besides, we want the energy going into fruit, not showy leaves.
What a beautiful sight!
I’ve got tops of tulips and hyacinths popping up, and we are at the end of two days of rain and 60F+ heat. In PA, near the MD line.
Oh the challenge of growing tomatoes in cold climes. When I first moved to the Maine coast, I tried and tried. I had gallons green tomatoes at each frost. So I tried a few in 5 gallon buckets. They grew beautifully, but were in danger of drowning with the rains. A local fella quickly assessed my predicament. In the very Maine way, he succinctly offered his advice:
“Just shoot some holes in the bucket.”
Nuff said.
I live in SE Wisconsin. It’s been an unusually warm winter here with far less snow than normal. Some of January and all of February had high temps 10-15 degrees above normal. That tomato plant is a beauty!
Down here on the Florida Gulfcoast, Major League Baseball and Pollen (Live Oak) season have arrived , both signs of Spring….the snowbirds are arriving to see their favorite teams, cars must be washed weekly as they get coated in yellow pollen dust…………and the Live Oaks are soon sprouting little green buds — which means it won’t be long before I have to turn on my A/C.