Tomato Tenacity

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​Every fall, when I clean up the potted plants on my small deck, I pick all the little green tomatoes, put them in a bowl, and watch as they slowly ripen. I’ve eaten my homegrown cherry tomatoes as late as Christmas Day.  

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​This year I did something different. Instead of picking the tomatoes, I cut off the stems and placed them in water to make a tomato bouquet. One of the stems still had a few blossoms on it. I was touched by the plant’s optimism. It was November, after all.
 
A few weeks later, I was about to discard the stems when I noticed that one stem was starting to develop roots. Sure enough, it was the one with the blossoms. 

12-2-2024

​I decided to give it a chance. I planted it in a small pot and waited to see what would happen. The lower branches and blossoms quickly dried up, but new leaves started growing from the top. 

Then came danger—spider mites! I had to give up a couple of infested houseplants, but I sprayed the little tomato plant with insecticidal soap and crossed my fingers. For a while I thought it was a lost cause. The leaves withered away. The plant was little more than a bare stalk. 
 
I was about to toss it when I thought I saw something. Wasn’t there a little bit of bright green at the very top? The spot of color was so small it was hard to tell. Once again, I waited to see what would happen.
 
What happened was the little tomato plant grew.

12-15-2024

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​And grew...

12-27-2024

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​And grew...

3-2-2025

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​And grew!

4-6-2025

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This gangly plant has been a source of delight to me. I tell its story to anyone who comes to visit. I give regular updates to my mom when we talk on the phone.  When I have to leave for more than a few hours, I say loving things to it that are too embarrassing to reveal here.

4-20-2025

​Over Easter weekend, my improbable tomato plant picked up where it left off last fall. ​It bloomed.

4-20-2025

​I wish we lived in a nation that cared for its people in the same way I've cared for my tomato plant.
 
Noticing and encouraging signs of growth, no matter how small.
 
Protecting them from harm.
 
Providing them with water, good soil, and plenty of light.
 
Delighting in what they turn out to be, even if they are not what we expect.
 
Valuing them as the gifts that they are.    

UPDATE
Two Months Later
​June 20, 2025

When I last wrote, my tomato plant was taller than my floor lamp. But it didn't stop there. No sir. This plant had some real ambition. 

May 7, 2025

At its peak, my tomato plant nearly touched the ceiling. It had been staked (I had to tape two stakes together) and was leaning against my lamp. It seemed sturdy enough.

But on June 1, the adventure ended. My ambitious plant had overreached. That morning I discovered it lying broken on the floor. 

I felt a little broken, too. I trimmed it way back, took a few cuttings, and put the plant on my deck. At least that was some consolation. The thrill was gone, but now the plant could be outside. It didn't look like much: just a stem with a few crinkly leaves that looked past their prime. 

Three weeks later, the plant hasn't grown any taller.

But it's growing new branches from at least nine places. 

There's a lesson in that, too, right?