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Nyagous is a Russian heirloom, with deep cherry color and rich flavor

A Tale of Tiny Tomato Plants by Tom Motley

by Tom Motley

My friend in Desert, Texas, Bill Brummett, raises dwarf Nigerian goats. The tiny white kids are honestly about the size of the little stuffed critters in my niece’s massive collection of My Little Pony toys from her childhood.

Bill is also an old-school gardener, so his rich, goat-manure compost is always put to good use. We have traded tips, seeds and labor over the years on many mutually beneficial farm projects. Like me, he planted and tended crops and gardens with his North Texas family from childhood through high school.

Unlike me, Bill never rushes the transplanting of his young, vulnerable tomato plants. A bad habit I started back when I had a farm in Collin County and another in Hunt County was that I would set out my delicate tomato and basil plants too early. My purpose was not without merit, as my intention was to show up at all the four DFW Farmers Markets I served back then with ripe, delicious produce before anybody else, not to mention delivering to restaurant chefs truly local organic items early in the season. But if I misjudged potential low temperatures and failed to cover the crops, goodbye baby basil and tiny tomato plants.

When asked, Bill always advises rookie farmers and gardeners not to set out tiny tomato plants before April 12th, period. “Anywhere in North Texas, just don’t plant tomatoes too early” he would counsel.

I hate to be the one to say it, and it breaks my heart, but I must at least suggest that this crazy spring weather of 2013 may be the undoing of Bill’s longtime reliable method. The high temperature in our McKinney gardens the other day was 85 degrees. The next night’s low for us was 30 degrees!

Being cautious like Bill, I didn’t jump the gun this year, and I waited to transplant all my tiny tomatoes until Monday, April 15th. No sweat, I thought. I’ll just sit back, and watch ‘em grow, right? NOT.

So, Becca and will yet again be dragging out the frost-cloth covers to protect the new tomato and basil plants for tonight’s low thirties’ temps. The rest of the plants should be okay, but all the tomatoes and the gorgeous little Genovese and Thai Sweet Basil plants will be in for a very rough night, even under the best frost cover. Basil basically doesn’t like any temperature under 45 degrees, covered or not.

As my farming family has always done, we hope and pray for good soil, sun and rain. Should I plant too early and nature sends a freeze, it’s my own fault that plants will suffer.

This spring, my tiny tomato plants include Nyagous (a dark Russian heirloom), Black Prince (amazing flavor, and a favorite of our customers), and two no-fail varieties, Patio and Celebrity.

Fresh out of the garden, all the above are richly rewarding in taste, texture and color.

With some of the tomato transplants, Becca wanted to try a new procedure this year. She’s planted some of the plants so that almost all the leaves on the trunk are covered with compost, straw, etc. She’s read that his method will supposedly encourage the (covered) lower branches to become roots themselves, strengthen the central trunk, and produce bigger yield.

The one thing I’ve always been careful about over the years, regarding tomato transplants, is to insure that I strip off the lowest two branches of leaves to encourage growth of the trunk’s lower girth. But, like most humans, I am not infallible. So I am curious to see what impact on productivity and plant strength my wife’s new method may have. I’m all for any increased organic output. We’ll report later on results of these plants, comparing the old method and the new.

My Granny Wilson grew awesome tomatoes. I won’t go into detail about how she carefully instructed me and my cousins, when we were four and five years old, exactly which plants we were to enhance whenever we needed to relieve ourselves outside. God help the male child who watered the wrong plant, in my Granny’s eyes. (For interested readers, carefully review the list of contents on the package or jar of whatever fertilizer you’re using. In some form or other, the word urea will likely show up).

Nature is organic, and uses everything we are made of.

April 23rd, 2013