T'is the Season

 A few days ago a friend exclaimed, "I have such a craving for a fresh tomato, I think I'll buy myself some." But quickly added, "I know they don't come close to our homegrown ones." 

"Another few months and you'll have some from the greenhouse." I informed her. "We just transplanted 84 tomato plants yesterday. 

"I can't wait!" was her enthusiastic reply.

I was curious, so I did a little bit of research and came up with a slice of 'love apple' history:   

Tomatoes were first cultivated in 700 AD, and originate from wild plants in the Andes Mountains in South America. The Spanish introduced this plant to Europe in the 16th century. The Spanish and the Italians were the first Europeans to adopt it as a food.

Botanists at the time, considered the tomato plant poisonous, because it's related to the belladonna and nightshade. The Italians called tomatoes, golden apples, which suggests they may have been yellow back then. To the French they were pomme d'amour, love apples. 

This delicious fruit was brought to Canada and the US by the Europeans. Thomas Jefferson is said to have raised tomatoes in Monticello in 1781. Next time you feast on a tomato sandwich, you'll know a tad more about this fruit, which is used in a variety of ways around the world.

tomato seeds

  As mentioned in an earlier post, my husband, Michael and I raise greenhouse tomatoes. The season started during the second week of December. While everybody else was busy ordering Christmas presents online or doing curbside pickups, we sat at our kitchen table and planted tomatoes. Well, I suppose not everybody bothered with online shopping and it actually only took us part of an evening to plant one tray of tomatoes. Christmas shopping was just another example of the strange times we’re living in at the moment. And planting tomatoes was a nice reminder that some things are still the same, when we so long to go back to normal.

We start them at our house, since one tray doesn’t take up much room. Plus, we save on having to heat the greenhouse the first few weeks of the season. Although this year it was rather mild. I’m always amazed that a tiny tomato seed grows into a twenty foot vine (We measured one in the fall, when we took them down.) and yields an abundance of fruit. Yes, a tomato falls under fruit. I read a quote from Miles Kington recently: “Knowledge is knowing that tomato is a fruit. Wisdom is not putting it into a fruit salad.”

 T’was wonderful to watch our seedlings sprout and grow over the holidays! That is when I was inspired to write a blog post… start a gardening journal of sorts. (I know, took me long enough to finally sit down and do it.) One never knows where inspiration will sprout from.

    

 

A few days ago we moved our little plants to the greenhouse and transplanted them. Almost daily you can see changes as they grow. Yes, come March we’ll see the first fruit of the season. For now I can dream about thick slices of tomatoes between fresh slices of  homemade whole wheat bread.

Knowing how much people enjoy our fresh tomatoes, adds to the joy of growing tomatoes!

 

"Hope Springs Eternal..."

...in the human breast; 

Man never is, but always to be blest. 

The soul, uneasy, and confined from home, 

Rests and expatiates in a life to come.

 from An Essay on Man  Alexander Pope, English poet, 1732

 A few months ago no one knew the word corona; or if they did, they certainly never associated it with a global virus. I wondered about the word corona and did a little bit of Wikipedia research and learned: "A corona (meaning "crown" in Latin derived from Ancient Greek κορώνη (korōnè, "garland, wreath")) is an aura of plasma that surrounds the Sun and other stars. The Sun's corona extends millions of kilometers into outer space and is most easily seen during a total solar eclipse, but it is also observable with a coronagraph." 

My little mind finds no connection between this definition and the virus. Or maybe it does now. I read it again and four words jumped out at me: extends millions of kilometers. I guess it doesn't really matter - at least not in light of what is happening in our world today. Every time I hear another sad story related to this virus, I wonder how much longer this will continue.

Still, hope springs eternal, and on that note:

in separate pots

There's something very hopeful about going inside a greenhouse, when there's still snow on the ground and the cold has a bite to it. I always find greenhouses, burgeoning with life, therapeutic anyway. Now for the first time, I get to work in a house full of green hope.

Michael has been raising tomatoes as a hobby, for about twenty years and this year I get to help him. Oh the joy of having my hands in soil with the wind whistling a minus 20 tune! Little did I know, when I married Michael and moved to my new colony that there is so much to know about raising greenhouse tomatoes.

We planted the seeds in our home in early December, then moved the fragile little plants to the greenhouse about a month later. Shortly after that, they had to be transplanted into separate pots. Today our 76 plants are over six feet tall and are bearing lovely tomatoes. No ripe ones yet, though. Can't wait for that first fresh tomato sandwich!!

 

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my new orchid

My favourite house plants are orchids. I've been growing orchids for a few years, and have had the joy of watching a few orchids bloom again. Their exquisite flowers never cease to amaze me. On the flip side, I've also seen a few of my orchids die, one just recently. It was especially sad, since it was a gift from Michael. I tried everything I know to keep it alive, but alas... So, I was delighted when Michael gave me another orchid for Valentine's Day.                                                                                           A few years ago, I heard about an orchid greenhouse in Selkirk, MB. I promptly put it on my bucket list to visit it one day. I recently learned that greenhouse shut down. However, I found another one in West St. Paul, MB -Everspring Orchids, and got the chance to visit it. It's small but has many gorgeous orchids. The white ones there, had the biggest blooms I'd ever seen on an orchid. 

Michael and I enjoyed walking around and admiring all the orchids and talking to one of the workers there, a very friendly and helpful lady. I was grateful when she gave me some advice on what to do with an ailing orchid. I have four orchids and the leaves on one of them turned limp. With her advice, my little green thumb and a dose of good luck, it'll hopefully survive and bloom again one day. Michael, sweetly offered to buy me another orchid for my collection. We opted for one that's not yet blooming, because the other ones were too expensive. It also helped that the lady assured us that "it should get a spike any time now". Hope springs eternal...

I couldn't leave Everspring without taking a few more orchids home on my phone: 

 

 

                             

All nature is but art, unknown to thee;

All chance, direction, which thou canst not see;

All discord, harmony, not understood;

All partial evil, universal good:

And, spite of pride, in erring reason's spite,

One truth is clear, Whatever is, is right.

- Alexander Pope 

What gives you hope and inspiration in these turbulent times?