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Illustration by Juliana Neufeld
I grow tomatoes every year – red pepper shape, orange tomato, yellow pear, big red cherry, San Marzano and early girl. I never actually buy seeds or seedlings though.
Let me explain. My late brother-in-law was the tomato grower. Actually he was the epitome of someone who was obsessed with tomato growing. Not only was his garden every Italian’s envy, it fed his need and desire to till the earth. Imagine a plot about 15 feet by 25 feet, carefully placed planks in between rows for easy access and fenced so that animals couldn’t reach the plants. Weeding was part of his routine and he would often disappear for hours outside tending his tomatoes.
When visiting during early spring I would salivate as I eyed the Tim Hortons cups filled with soil and a seed or two, carefully arranged on a large growing rack in direct sunlight. No growing lights for him! Every day he used an eyedropper to water his seeds and then when seedlings appeared, he would painstakingly tie the plants to wooden skewers. Each cup was labelled with a Sharpie noting the variety of tomato. These were all from his seeds, harvested from last year’s crop.
Love and so many memories grow in my garden
I was secretly in envy of his hobby wishing I could one day emulate this loving practice. All the while being terrified and afraid that I could never do it.
When he died last year, he had more than 100 tomato seedlings that had yet to be planted. My sister and his children gave them out at the funeral with a card explaining how to harvest the seeds.
I took my requisite varieties and the card. I savoured the fruits of my labour that summer but worried about the end of the season. Could I harvest seeds too and keep his tradition alive?
Based on his advice I chose beautifully grown tomatoes, sliced them open, scooped out the seeds and let them dry out. Carefully placing the seeds in small jars, I used his original labels and taped them to my jars. First step completed! This isn’t so hard, I thought.
All winter, I looked at the jars of seeds. I began to doubt that I’d be able to grow tomato seedlings from my harvested seeds. But I felt he was smiling down at me and I could hear his voice echoing through my brain, saying yes you can.
A good friend who grows seeds herself offered words of encouragement too and helped me choose a small grow light. Hopefully my brother-in-law would forgive me for using a grow light. Strike one! It even had a function for self-watering for 14 days so I did not use an eye dropper. Strike two!
Sitting in my garden does not erase my pain but its moments of beauty and wonder help
One brave day in April I retrieved my seeds, planted them, labelled each one in my brother-in-law’s style and placed them under the grow light in my kitchen. When a friend visited he laughed and teased me that these would be the most expensive tomato plants, knowing how much the grow light costs to run. But he knew the significance of the journey I was embarking on and noted my success when he later saw the seedlings growing.
I can’t wait to harvest them and host an “ode to the tomato night” with my friends as I cook and serve tomato dishes. I remembered that year we had relatives visiting from Italy and my brother in law hosted a dinner and called it: il giardino di Gian Carlo as everything we served was from his garden, with the tomatoes stealing the show.
This year, I am delivering some seedlings to my sister who will then plant them in my brother-in-law’s garden. It’s very weedy now and not so prettily arranged but I’m sure these tomatoes will grow tall and have a bounty he would be proud of.
My own tomato plants are keeping his hobby alive. I’m so grateful to have this new hobby. And so proud that I did it.
Susan Marchiori lives in Waterloo, Ont.
