A few weeks ago, while chatting on the phone, I absent-mindedly sowed tomato seeds.
Or rather, I sowed two entire packets of tomato seeds.
When the conversation ended and I looked down, I realised that what should have been a carefully measured sowing had become a rather enthusiastic one. Four containers, two varieties (Pomodoro and Roma), and considerably more seed than any sensible gardener would use at one time.
The seeds were started in one of my favourite propagation tools: the clear plastic containers that butter lettuce often comes in from the grocery store. I punch a few drainage holes in the bottom, fill them with compost, and sit them on a tray with a small amount of water so the compost can absorb moisture from below. Once the lid is closed, they create an excellent environment for germination. Over the years I've found them far too useful to throw away.
As it turns out, they are perhaps a little too effective.
Tomatoes are known for their enthusiasm. Given warmth, moisture, and fresh seed, germination rates can be remarkably high. This is usually excellent news. It becomes slightly less excellent when nearly every seed appears determined to participate.
Within a short time, hundreds of seedlings emerged. Healthy, vigorous, and seemingly intent on proving that every single seed deserved a chance. Note, this is pot 1 of 4!
As gardeners, we are taught that thinning is essential. Seedlings sown too densely compete for light, water, nutrients, and space. Left untouched, they often become weaker than they would have if a few had been selected and given room to thrive.
It is entirely sensible advice.
And yet, I found myself hesitating. Each seedling had successfully germinated. Each had overcome the odds. Removing them felt strangely unfair.
The practical solution, of course, was distribution. Tomatoes have since found homes in containers, vegetable beds (between the raspberries), and spare corners throughout my garden. Friends, family, and neighbours have all become recipients of what has become an accidental tomato surplus.
The original containers, however, remain densely populated.
The experience reminded me that gardening is often a balance between abundance and restraint. Nature produces more seedlings than can survive. Gardeners intervene, selecting, editing, and shaping. Knowing this does not necessarily make the decisions easier.
For now, I continue to admire the determination of those tiny seedlings. The thinning may happen eventually.
Or perhaps the Bay Area will simply have a few more tomato plants this year than it otherwise would have.
Topics: Tomatoes, Seed Starting, Garden Observations, Sustainability, Recycle, Reuse