The tomato plants went in last week. They’re growing at a ridiculous rate with little corresponding effort on my part. Granted, I didn’t start them from seed, but I swear the plants doubled in size since I took that picture. Now, they need cages and everything. This is very good for the ego of a novice gardener.
This is what I planted: one Brandywine, one Cherokee Purple, and one San Marzano, which I mixed in with the roses that were here when we moved in. They say roses and tomatoes get along real nice. We’ll see about that. I also have a Caspian Pink, which I put in a pot by itself just in case things get ugly.
I focused mainly on heirloom tomatoes because I might have mentioned that I have a tomato seed problem. And a raw tomato flavor problem. So, if I’m going to eat any of these tomatoes raw (and I want to eat all of them raw except for the San Marzanos that are destined for sauce), they need to be beyond delicious. Luckily, I’ve learned that the best-tasting tomatoes are the ugliest ones. Misshapen, cracked, in weird shades of red with tinges of green – that’s my ideal tomato.
(Oh, and once I had a big, cream-colored tomato that knocked my socks off, but I have no idea what it was called. It was big. And cream-colored. Anyone?)
As for the vegetable garden, the radishes look the best, followed by the arugula. Not bad considering the spot I so lovingly chose for the garden only gets two hours of direct sunlight per day. Good one. The carrots look pretty pathetic, but they’re carrots so who cares. I think one zucchini seed out of 16 germinated. Also, the squirrels have taken it upon themselves to rearrange the seed rows while digging for buried treasure, so it’s going to be a mystery what things are until I pull them up.
I love this whole thinning deal, though. I had no idea what a perk it would be. We had arugula sprouts on tuna salad sandwiches last week, courtesy of Husband who has a way with a can of tuna. Today, I had a little salad of baby lettuce and Swiss chard sprouts. Why are they so good?
Right now, I’m stationed by the window on red alert for the terrorist threat posed by one or more scheming groundhogs. No matter what happens, at least I had the sprouts.