I’m growing tomatoes on my windowsill. I traded them for coriander when they were just 2 inches tall and in a very little pot. I’ve watered them every day, fed them every week and taken the dead leaves away from time to time. I built them a bridge between pots with sticks from an old blind, it helps them stay up. One plant makes yellow tomatoes and the other makes red. The photo above is them today, four moths after they came to me.
Here’s what I love about them
- The smell, they’re so big I can’t help but touch the leaves when I water them. It suprises me later on, perhaps when I’m on a bus or drinking tea (I do wash my hands eventually though!)
- The taste, they all ripen at different times so there seems to be a never ending supply.
- When the tiny ones appear, they’re so small and perfectly round – no bigger than a pea.
A friend watered them for me when I went on holiday and I wrote her a thank you card from the tomatoes. I even loved writing a card from them. I like that there’s a crowd, a tomato collective who are grateful for care.
I love watching them change and grow, they make me think about life. I find it fascinating when a flower appears or a tiny ball of tomato starts. One seed hold instructions for all of this, the plant knows when it’s time to make flowers and fruit. I was writing a poem about maths and the universe the other day, each line has one more word in it. Line 14 was inspired by my tomatoes:
Each seed it holds a perfect ordered story, already told by seasons and time.
They make me think about creativity. Spiders spin webs, birds make nests, wasps make hexagons and tomato plants make tomatoes. We were all made to create something – strategies, computer programmes, safe working spaces, paintings, music, cars, babies, poetry, recipes, stories…. the list is endless. I ask myself what was I made to create?