Compost tomatoes and community are teaching me valuable lessons in the face of an uncertain future | Kelley Swain
As datacentres dry and fry the planet and society rapidly turns unsustainable, focusing on the small things we can change might get us through Thanks
As datacentres dry and fry the planet and society rapidly turns unsustainable, focusing on the small things we can change might get us through Thanks to the Hobart gardening legend Hannah Moloney sharing a video about the green tomatoes in her greenhouse, I went outside in the glorious winter solstice sunshine today, down in the Huon Valley, and rummaged around in the crazily overgrown tomato plant that has been taking over my neglected compost heap.
I came away with a basket full of unripe cherry tomatoes. This will be an experiment: leaving them in the sun to ripen, if they will. I wouldn’t dare to say “I grew tomatoes”. These plants grew themselves: more than one friend has said that volunteer tomatoes, those self-seeded, are the most determined (or obstinate). It puts me in mind of how adamant I was when hiring a professional builder to not say it was me doing the building – more accurately, I would say I was having a tiny house built.
These are subtle and incredibly important nuances to language, which of course imply ownership and ability. I cannot grow tomatoes, and it would be awfully strange if I could. Perhaps I can put more effort into intentionally creating the conditions in which tomatoes would like to grow, but based on last year’s experiments, that is currently in question. The only tomato plants to bear fruit under my gaze in the southern hemisphere are self-seeded, and my gaze wasn’t really upon them until Hannah’s cheerful greenhouse clip made me think about going to check out the plants growing in superabundance out of the compost.
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