Tomato Plants from Seeds

Every year for the past many, many years, I’ve had this almost fanatical propensity to grow the biggest, reddest, juiciest and most abundant crop of tomatoes in the entire world. Or at least, in the neighborhood!

In some neighborhoods, the biggest house was the chief motivating factor at becoming the overall neighborhood King. Other neighborhoods relied on the most expensive car, the smartest or best looking children, Super Bowl tickets. To me, it was always about the size of your tomatoes.

So, every year, just like this year, I set out to strengthen my manhood, to grow the biggest, reddest tomatoes in the entire world. I would feel the stinging pains of defeat if my tomatoes were judged the best only in the entire Western Hemisphere. I started out where the most proficient growers begin, Home Depot.

The last time I grew tomatoes from seed, I planted them early, around January, and emptied a full package of seeds into a small bread loaf pan and put it on a special table at the sunniest window in the house, facing south. I planted the seeds in a mixture of the finest loam and potting soil, with so much Miracle Grow that the soil turned Green. Then I watered them faithfully, 4 times a day.

Every night I would cover our germinating, neighborhood conquering monster seeds with our finest dishtowel so they wouldn’t get cold. Then one morning, my wife asked me what I was growing. “Tomatoes,” I said proudly! She told me I had better look again, and after I picked out about 10 fully ripe mushrooms, I decided I was probably watering them too much. I probably needed to get rid of the towel too!

Two days later, I had about nine thousand rabid tomato plants in one very small bread loaf pan. I knew I had to do something drastic because they needed to be replanted outdoors, fast, and mid-January in Northern Connecticut was not the time to plant summer tomatoes. In the room with the sunny, Southerly exposed window, I had what looked like overgrown elephant grass growing down the table legs and germinating little elephants in the carpet. The tomato delta had to go, and I would have to resort to plan B.

Until God would again bring His torch over Connecticut and thaw out the ground, I would take the time to further study the life cycle of the perfect tomato. And, in May, I shoveled out the car and drove back to Home Depot.

The first thing I learned is what I like to call “The Tabloid Theory”. Growing good tomatoes is all about the “dirt”. Real dirt! Loads of compost and