The fruit of my labour

Behold the fruit of my labour! The photograph is of my tomato harvest for this year. While I did grow the tomato, this wasn’t actually the only one, just the biggest. But in away it was most of the harvest. As always, there’s a story to that.

Back in November, after the Labour weekend at the end of October had passed, I bought a 6-cell tray of little beefsteak tomato plants. I put them on my kitchen bench, under the Solatube skylight, and left them there—for months. By the time I was finally ready to plant them, only two survived (yes, I watered them, and I also rotated them periodically to make sure they grew well). There are a lot of reasons I didn’t get to them planted earlier, only some of which are kind of lame, but all of that’s kind of beside the point: It was simply the reality of what happened.

I planted to the two remaining plants in pots. As I have in previous years, but one of them didn’t survive the transplant. The one that did flourished and started producing—but time was running out. I was turning into autumn as the plant grew, and while we had a very mild autumn, it was still autumn. I left the plants to grow as long as I dared, but when nighttime temperatures started to get close to freezing, I picked the tomatoes green and put them in my fruit bowl with some store-bought tomatoes that weren’t quite ripe.

The tomato in the photo was the first to start growing, and was the biggest of the harvest (there were five in total), and it was also the first to start turning red. I had the first one over the weekend, and the others are all now ready, too.

The crop, small though it was, was quite good—sweeter than other varieties of tomato, and nice. Unlike the previous years I grew tomatoes here in Hamilton, I had no issue with blossom-end rot. That may be because of a change I made this year.

After the second year with blighted tomatoes, I did some research and read somewhere that calcium deficiency can cause or aggravate the problem. I also read that ground eggshells mixed into tomato soil increases calcium for the plants, so, I ground up egg shells in a mortar and pestle and mixed it that into the soil before planting the seedlings. I can’t know if that made the difference, but I do know the plant that survived was quite healthy and the tomatoes were as they’re supposed to be (unlike previous years), so when I next grow tomatoes, I’ll again mix ground-up egg shells into the soil.

The economics of this year’s harvest were not ideal, as Kiwis put it in their understated way. Each tomato that I harvested was more expensive than supermarket tomatoes in season—but they were also much better in every way. I like to think of this year’s tomato crop as being “Premium Tomatoes”. My garden, my rules!

For the next season, I plan on doing what I’ve wanted to do every year, but never have: Plan the next growing season while it’s still winter. That way, I’ll know what I’m going to do well before time, down to starting seeds so that the seedlings are ready to be planted-out when it’s warm enough (that method is also cheaper than buying plants…). That’s the plan, and maybe overly optimistic, but this year was an unusual deviation from even my worst years of gardening, so I think some optimism is warranted.

That’s the tale of my mini-harvest of tomatoes this year. All things considered, yes, it wasn’t ideal, but I still learned things, which is always a plus because I always like to keep growing. I just hope that my garden will next season, too.