The Volunteer!

Every tomato grower worth a salt has them (I love tomatoes and salt, yum!). Even if you don't want them -- if you grow heirloom tomatoes -- you're bound to get them. If they didn't pop up this year -- they most certainly will next year.

Or perhaps you just haven't spotted them in the yard yet. Chances are they are there -- hiding from you in plain sight.

"They" in this case are "volunteer tomato plants." And in this -- our third year of gardening in our vast North Natomas gardening laboratory -- Venus and I have them in spades. Volunteer tomato plants -- like the one to your right near the grapevines -- are popping up everywhere.

Did we have tomatoes planted in this spot last year? Actually -- uh -- no. So how did it get there then? Good question. I'm still trying to figure that one out myself. If you some how deduce the answer -- please let me know as Venus and I have plants popping up all over the yard this summer.

I wonder what would have happened had we actually had decent weather this spring? Even more volunteers? Perhaps...

Most of the volunteers that we find -- like the eight or nine plants that popped up underneath this peach tree -- get yanked out the moment I see them. I don't want tomatoes competing with peaches. In fact -- I don't want tomatoes anywhere near the peaches.

So -- how did they get there then? I DUNNO! Maybe some bird ripped off a cherry tomato -- flew into the tree -- and snacked on it there? The seeds were prevented from blowing out of the yard from the tree and dropped to the base instead?

Our sneaky cats put them there? I wouldn't put it past them. Hey! Look at it from this perspective: If our mangy cats can can deposit hairballs in every room of the house -- then they can certainly place tomato seeds in out-of-the-way places.

Venus and I have been busy this June -- ripping out volunteers where we find them. Volunteers in the potato bed? Yep! Volunteers coming out of the bark around the raised planter beds? Absolutely! Volunteers coming up with grapes? Um -- yeah -- that too.

But not every volunteer tomato gets the "rough and tough" treatment. Like these plants -- for example. They are volunteers that popped up on the edge of our in-ground test bed. Since they're in a bed that we already prepared for gardening AND they've got a steady source of water -- they've received a temporary stay of execution.

Now the big question is: what kind of tomato is this? Good question! We haven't figured that out yet. The nice thing is -- the volunteer plants are loaded with small tomatoes. They're big enough at this point where I can be reasonably assured that they are not cherry tomatoes -- but that's about all I can tell you at this point.

Venus thought she noticed some ribbing across the top -- which might indicate a Costoluto Genovese -- but it's just too early to tell yet. We had a mass of different kinds of heirloom plants located in this area last year -- so this could be one of those varieties. It's also entirely possible that this could be some sort of cross.

Whatever it is -- it certainly appears to be doing quite well where it's planted -- and with that many green tomatoes forming on it -- well -- it would be a crying shame to just up and tear it out.

Thus -- the reprieve.

This isn't the only volunteer thriving in the Bird Garden this year. Black Cherry tomato plant volunteers are also springing up near a raised bed where I put a Black Cherry plant two years ago. I had a massive number of volunteers a year later (last year) and the process appears to be starting all over again this year.

I'm of the opinion that you can never have enough Black Cherry tomatoes. It just might be one of those "unwritten" rules. Nobody needs to tell you. You just sort of -- well -- know.

As for whether our volunteers will be *good* or *bad* -- the jury is still out on that. Sometimes they turn out to be cherry tomatoes that are really nothing to write home about. But -- sometimes -- the volunteer happens to be the return of a tomato you forgot to seed the previous season -- but really wish you had.

That's how we rediscovered our black "Evil Seed" heirloom variety (which we grew out in the form of starter plants and handed out to friends and associates this year). Now -- everyone gets to experience the nastiest tomato on the face of this Earth.

What will Mother Nature gift us with this year? Well now -- that's half the fun. Patience Bill Bird. Patience. Time will tell...

The North Natomas "Volunteer"

Weird and Strange things are taking place in the Backyard of Bird this summer gardening season.

I've alluded to them in a few other posts. Some "mysteries" are unfolding before our very eyes and -- quite frankly -- they are hard to explain.

Case in point -- that tomato plant to your left.

It shouldn't be there. It shouldn't be growing. Yet -- as the photo clearly shows -- not only is it THERE -- it's also growing like nobody's business.

My friends -- this is what we call a "Tomato Volunteer." This isn't the first year for them, by the way. The've popped up in my raised beds from the past -- most likely from cherry tomatoes that dropped to the ground for one reason or another (I didn't get to them or some bird got to them first).

But this is the first volunteer to pop out of the clay muck soil that makes up much of the backyard. And -- not just pop up -- but grow like it's got the best soil conditions in the universe. That's why I say -- this should not be happening. Venus and I are blessed with the worst soil known to mankind.

The Sacramento River -- long ago -- overran its banks into the Natomas basin. Whatever good, loamy topsoil we had in the Natomas basin was long ago stolen by river flooding and washed south into the Delta. You've heard about the good soil in the Delta? Well it's MINE! And I want it BACK!

Of course, I'm not getting it back. Which means I'm stuck with the worst clay hardpan known to mankind. It's as hard as a rock during the summer, and turns into a muddy, quicksandish SLOP during the winter. What is it good for? NOTHING! It's a "good for nothing soil!" You wouldn't even want to suffer the indignity of being BURIED in this soil. Nothing -- I mean NOTHING -- grows well in this hardpan except for WEEDS.

But now I have this. This thing. This plant. This tomato plant volunteer that not only sprung up in the worst soil known to mankind -- HECK -- IT LOVES THE STUFF. Clay hardpan? WHO CARES? This plant appears ready to grow in a vat of wet or hard cement, which is exactly what I got.

I spotted this thing last May and was actually quite amused. I wondered how long the poor thing would probably last. It had the worst soil and NO water source whatsoever. I gave it a lifespan of two weeks at the most.

What is it now? August? Near August? This FREAK of nature lives. Not only does it live -- it's got tomatoes all over it.

How? What? When? Where? Who? I feel like I'm in damn journalism school all over again!

But -- even more intriguing -- is this plant may have a rather *sordid* history behind it. I'm not sure yet. This could be one of several tomato varieties that I grew last year. Why? I had a late run of Blossom End Rot (BER) last August. A lot of the soiled and spoiled tomatoes got tossed into the exact area of where this plant rooted, and is now growing like gangbusters. It's most certainly one of those tomato varieties.

But which one? I can't tell yet -- although you can clearly see to your left that one of these tomatoes is now ripening. I'll have a pretty good idea in a couple of weeks just exactly what this plant is -- and I'm hoping that it's the plant I'm thinking of -- because it deserves to be saved.

There's a story behind this tomato. It's not a good story mind you. Even worse -- it's a BAD STORY. A true story? Yes, indeed. But a bad story just the same. Should this variety turn out to be the variety that I strongly suspect -- well -- it already has a name.

EVIL SEED

Yeah -- that's right: Evil Seed. The story behind this tomato? It's almost as good as the tomato itself. While it certainly does have another name -- I'll never know for sure what it is. Therefore -- because it's murky history and its cheating ways -- it gets a new name. Time will tell.

Through observation -- I can tell you what it's not. It's not a Brandywine. It's not a Pruden's Purple. Both of those are potato-leafed heirloom plants. This is not a potato-leaf -- so rule those two out. It's not a paste variety either, because the tomatoes on this plant are round. So, cross out the three paste tomatoes I had growing in the garden last year.

And then -- there's also the distinct possibility that some wayward bird flew into my backyard earlier this spring and made that special kind of "deposit" that only birds can make. This is unlikely, but you can't rule it out either.

I'm hoping for "Evil Seed." Stay tuned. Time will tell. Seeds -- and the story that goes with them -- will also be offered to interested growers -- PROVIDED -- this is THAT tomato.

What a story indeed.

UPDATE: SATURDAY, AUGUST 1ST:

Upon returning home tonight after a day full of activities, it became apparent that the one tomato nearing harvest? Well, it had fully colored up. It was time. And Venus and I both thought: "no time like the present."

Unfortunately -- from the moment I touched it -- I knew something was wrong. It was soft. TOO SOFT. Unfortunately, it must've split about a week ago (I didn't see the split), and some sort of white fungus was growing in the cracks where it had split open.

It was spoiled. Yes -- spoiled. But not spoiled enough. As Venus and I stared at this tomato -- we both knew in an instant. This was no cross. This is THAT tomato!!! It was black in color and the same shape and size as the mystery black tomatoes I grew last summer.

Make no doubt about it. The EVIL SEED lives. Although the tomato was too far gone for eating purposes -- it was fine for seeding. And we did just that. And this was one SEEDY tomato. Evil Seed indeed. It's living up to its name!

Seeds will be offered to a few lucky folks later this winter. I know I won't have nearly enough for demand -- but I'll do my best.