Our fourteen tomato plants went into the ground at Memorial Day, after a robust discussion the week before of which types and quantities we should raise.
Twelve of them ended up in the bed we designated for them, and singles are in the adjacent brassica bed in openings created when we had to remove diseased cauliflower and cabbage plants.
This is our roster, thanks to Lisa, who reported their planting when they went in: 2 sugar plum grape, 2 sungold cherry, 1 red zebra, 1 blondkopfchen cherry, 2 Moskovitch, 1 yellow perfection, 1 red brandywine, 1 brandywine, 1 Charlie Black and 2 eva purples.
The method for planting was completely different than what I would have done with my own tomato plants at home had I not been there to observe: The holes were dug one-third deeper than the pots the seedlings were in; this was because tomatoes, I was told (by Mike, or Alan?) are vines, and all about their roots. To accommodate the added depth, we pinched off the shoots from the stem that would have been underground.
The holes were prepared, meanwhile, just as I had, on instruction, earlier in the day for peppers and eggplants: A small handful of chicken poop for fertilizer and a sprinkling of pulverized eggshells for calcium, to ward off blossom end rot.
Mike, who headed the tomato committee, advised mounding small rings of earth at each plant’s drip line, to form sort of a watering dish. This, he told me, ensures that water showered on the plant is more likely to arrive at its roots, instead of dampening all the surrounding area.
Last Saturday, the first tomato appeared on one of the plants — sorry, dunno which one (it was a sugar plum)— mottled green and marble-sized. I took a picture to share with you, but my auto-focus got a really sharp image of the hairs of an adjoining stem instead. It was mottled green and marble-sized, trust me.