Saturday, May 21, 2011

Summer's Just Around The Corner, But It's A Very Long Block

It's coming up on Memorial Day, the day Portlanders traditionally begin to think about putting out their tomato starts in a few weeks, say, early June, which is our name for early July. At least the old-timers do. Newer immigrants have had their tomatoes out since the official date of the last expected frost, April 15th, and there they remain, precisely the same size a month and a half later, unchanged except for a morose aspect. By Memorial Day the plants will be overcome by gloom. Word might be getting out, however. Nurseries report a decline in tomato-start sales over the same period last year. Upon further analysis, it turns out that the people who believe they can grow a tomato before June in Portland are the very same people who believe the world will end on the 21st of May. We'll miss them.

Nothing says "summer" like a tomato. They are born of heat; their very flavor recalls barbecues and beer, muffin-tops, shot-off fingers and the disturbance of the peace. Here in the Willamette Valley, too, even the smell of a tomato is evocative. We bite into its luscious flesh, seeds and juice streaming down our chins, and close our eyes--it speaks to us. It says "five minutes before winter." It says "time to put the studded tires on." There's nothing like it. We quiver with anticipation as they begin to blush during the World Series. Tomatoes are Red Sox fans, too.

It would be swell to have them ripen a little earlier, and plenty of people try to make it happen. Heat is the key. We throw everything we have at it: black mats and heating pads and the Wall O' Water and hair dryers and the Hanford Nuclear Reservation, just upriver. Even the neighborhood cats get in on the action, rumpling up the soil and depositing something warm, but it's no use. We plant varieties like Early November Girl or Beefmaybe, anything advertising a ripening time of 65 days or better, and they're as good as their word. The problem, of course, is that the 65 days are not necessarily consecutive.

There's even talk of giving them a little boost with artificial growth hormones, but that's a chancy proposition. No one wants a repeat of the recent exploding watermelon fiasco; on the other hand, their use in chickens did jumpstart the nugget industry.

We're a sweet and silly bunch, we Portland tomato growers, a group that is all too easy to make fun of, but I salute this cadre of groundless optimists, disdaining the easy pleasures of this modern world and looking forward to our dubious harvest. We plant--yea, even unto the end of the driveway, with prayer, faith, reverence, and a little lime and eggshells, and bless our gullible hearts, we patiently await the rapture. Bacon and lettuce at the ready.

23 comments:

  1. BLTs are so darn good with home grown tomatoes and lettuce. I got a good chuckle at your "the 65 days are not necessarily consecutive".

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  2. Do you think the nurseries are bracing themselves for a glut of sales on tomato plants tomorrow?
    Thanks for the chuckle.

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  3. You've done it again, Murr, started my day with a whole bunch of smiles, even a giggle or two. Absolutely brilliant combination of tomatoes and the impending rapture. Somehow, I expect you and I, and a whole lot of our fellow bloggers, will still be here tomorrow morning. I'm hoping the other folks will have gone "Home." I can't say I will miss them. Happy Possible Rapture Day! Ain't life grand?

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  4. The time, they say, between the Rapture (5/21) and the End of the World (10/21) should be enough for a good set of tomatoes to eat and a good bit left over to throw at the weenies.

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  5. Ah yes. At our house the youngest has been growing her tomatoes right from a slice of a ripe one since February and her plants wait indoors in huge pots. I guess they'll be put out on the porch now.

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  6. Thick slices of home grown tomatoes on toasted homemade bread, with just a hint of mayo, salt & pepper (no bacon or lettuce required)--now THAT'S rapture.

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  7. Here in central Illinois, most people start their tomato plants in late April or early May. I'm a procrastinator and have yet to get mine out this year. The good news (well for me anyway)? It has dipped to 39 degrees several nights in the last week. Chalk one up for procrastination!

    I love tomatoes any way you can eat them. How come no one has mentioned homemade salsa yet?! It's the best!

    As always- super entertaining post,
    ♥Spot

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  8. Boy, does this resonate. I've had tomatoes 'growing' on my patio since early April, and I live in Scotland.

    When we lived in Cyprus, we had a world of sun and tomato-growing heat, and no time at all to garden. My frustration then was as keen as my hope is now.

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  9. I hate to brag but we've been getting ripe tomatoes for a week now.

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  10. Dear Ellen Abbot, Either you live in some foriegn country (like Texas where commercial tomatoes are strip mined) or you need to be reminded that you go to hell just as fast for lying as you do for stealing. I've lived in the Wilamette valley for 45 years, and I know that ripe tomatoes do not happen in May.

    (Do I need to put in the smiley face that indicates I am so bitterly jealous that I am choking on my own spleen?)

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  11. My tomato plants are three inches high (I live in New Brunswick, Canada). If the weather cooperates, I hope to put them in the ground in the next two days, and will be eating ripe tomatoes in late July...

    Love the photo, Murr!

    Wendy

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  12. We just planted the tomatoes this week, by golly, and we're optimistic, even though last year we ended up with 300 green tomatoes. Good old Seattle sunshine.

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  13. oooooh just the thought of ripe actual tomatoes! What a strange world we live in that provides us so frequently with the proxy of something and not the actual thing unless we "do" something...

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  14. Ellen Abbott must live very, very far away, and a good thing for her she does. Hmmph.

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  15. Can't grow tomatoes or corn in the Andean Patagonia. They say you need 100-120 days of sunshine a year to grow either. Fat chance! If we get 2 days in a row over 80ºF in mid-summer, we think we're having a heat wave! Here the seasons are just opposite yours so my birthday, December 9, weather-wise, should be like June 9 in Portland. I never plan a cook-out for that date, however, since two out of the last six years, it has snowed. Ah, how it reminds me of dear old Ohio! They say you might be from Ohio if you think the seasons are almost winter, winter, still winter and construction.

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  16. Another cockeyed optimist here in south central Ontario. I've got three tomato plants in a big pot out at the edge of the driveway in the only spot that gets enough sun for a tomato to even consider growing there. Last year the little bugger, er, boy next door picked all but three off the plants as they were ripening and stuck them down on the soil. So we had a toasted TL sandwich one day for lunch and that was it. This year, I live in hope as they are moving next week!

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  17. Like many Oregonians, I mark the arrival of summer by removing the rain cover from the air conditioner unit and scraping off the rust. That bit of maintenance ensures the unit will be cooling the house properly during the 6 weeks of summer we have at this latitude.

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  18. Wonderful post. Love the pictures. Your expression is "American Gothic"? Here I call it Russian Smile".
    Our tomatoes were transplanted in the first week of May. All 200 plants of them. They don't yield worth a darn in our garden for some reason. Even with lots of water.
    In Saskatchewan we put them out about May 25. Most were picked green before the first HARD frost (they were covered several times prior) and ripened in boxes stored under the beds.
    It says "five minutes before winter." It says "time to put the studded tires on." - You called it.

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  19. At least the sallymanders grow well in your neck of the woods!

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  20. It's sad when you can raise the bacon from infancy to slaughtering age faster than you can grow a tomato.

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  21. I think the Willamette Valley tomato harvest may be going the way of the Dodo. In fact, it may have already gone. Oh, for sunny days when the pungent perfume of tomato plants fills the air, when red tomatoes glow among the leafy foliage. Alice Lynn

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  22. I'm opening an Etsy shop for tomatoes and squash. I'll send you a link.

    Do you ever get that gummy yellow tomato goo backed up into the vented thingie on the back of your hairdryer?

    Love you, girl. You're crazy.

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