Lyndel Meikle
I’m still in the greenhouse. I may move in permanently.
When Deer Lodge schools shut down last spring and the students were sent home, I seized the chance to work in the FFA Ag-Ed greenhouse. What better refuge could there be?
Just as the shutdown began, the banks of bedding plants were ready for the annual FFA sale, and it was with a twinge of regret that I watched them go out the door with eager gardeners. I’d begun to take a proprietary interest in the colorful flowers.
There were still plants to care for; raised beds of tomatoes, cucumbers, peppers and herbs.
Having found such a comfortable way to pass the time, I stretched it out as long as possible. I even resorted to something which (as my mother would have told you) was totally foreign to my nature. I started cleaning!
A month or so ago I finally tackled the dust and dirt behind some lengths of aluminum under the potting benches. A green leaf showed above the metal and to my astonishment, it proved to be a young tomato plant, about three inches tall which had been surviving on a thin layer of dirt and the water which spilled down from the bench. Evidently a tomato had fallen from a plant the previous year and rolled out of sight, where it had provided nourishment and shelter for its offspring throughout the winter.
I pulled the seedling out and the faded, yellow skin of its “parent” came with it.
It was soon tucked into a dirt-filled pot, and I was about to toss out the yellowed skin of its ancestor when I discovered five tiny seedlings curled up inside it, with no more than a couple of wrinkled leaves on each.
They were soon planted as well, and within a couple of days they had stretched out. Their crumpled leaves had straightened and tiny new leaves were showing.
It was with some trepidation that I finally planted them in my garden, but there was no place for them in the greenhouse, where the pots and raised beds were overflowing with spring growth.
Spring in Montana brought eight inches of wet, heavy snow covering the lilacs, chokecherry, raspberries, and the other perennials crammed into the yard.
Spring, though, is a moving target in Montana, and I kept an anxious eye on the weather report which had been predicting a winter storm for Monday night, but I don’t trust predictions. I covered over everything coverable on Sunday, and at 4 a.m. Monday was out in the predawn dark, shaking eight inches of wet, heavy snow off lilacs, chokecherry, raspberries, and all the other perennials I’ve crammed into the yard.
When the sun came up, I started excavating this year’s plantings of flowers and herbs. Fearing the worst, I lifted off the various inverted planters, former shop windows, folding tables and plastic shelving I’d rigged up. To my considerable delight, everything survived, including the valiant tomatoes.
A family of tomato plants survived a spring snowstorm and are taking hold in the garden.
That was a story in itself, but there is more to the tale. A few days ago, I noticed yet another leaf tip showing amid the aluminum pile. It was another seedling, as tiny as those first few and even more ready to flourish. One night under a grow light, three days in a little planter pot and it was ready to join the rest of the family.
It’s out there now, soaking up the sun – the tiniest in a line of nearly half a dozen determined survivors, while at the other end of the line, the first seedling has grown sufficiently to put out flowers.
Oops! I just took a short break from writing this because the sudden arrival of dark clouds, rolling thunder and the start of a heavy rain sent me scurrying outside. My little tomato family is now safely covered against the threat of hail – a not infrequent occurrence here.
Ah! The sun is returning.
No. Wait! There’s another roll of thunder and the wind is picking up. I can almost hear little tomato voices coming from the garden. “Why didn’t she just leave us under the aluminum?!”
Lyndel Meikle lives in the Deer Lodge area.
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July 05, 2020 at 08:00PM
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Open Range: Tomato plants determined survivors - Helena Independent Record
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