The Art Of Putting A Tomato Plant Into The Soil
Ha ha! Like it is an art! The plant would rather hang out in the soil with all its microbe friends than in a pot in your house or greenhouse. Letting go is so hard, but you need to let your plant children stretch their roots, and I had delayed a bit too long when it came to breaking my tomato children's plates, er, pots. Part of that delay wasn't my fault as it rained so freaking much here in North Idaho this spring that I hadn't had a dry day to stretch the agricultural grade plastic over my hoop house, but that bad memory is behind me! This morning I chucked my tomato teens into the fertile ground so they could begin their adolescent growth spurt. Here's how that event went down:
I had about thirty, six week old tomato plants that needed to be re-homed into the hoop house. This brings up an important point. I know those 2-3 feet tall tomato plants at big box stores look tempting, but it is actually better for you to transplant a younger, smaller plant into whatever garden situation that you are rocking, be that patio pots, hoop houses, or in the great garden outdoors. The bigger the plant, the harder it is for it to rebound from stress. These little plants will be a few feet tall in no time!
My hoop house soil is covered with reused greenhouse flooring, a product that I waxed poetic about in a previous blog post. Whenever I want to plant something I quite literally cut a hole and start digging in X marks the spot.
Sometimes my work has to come to a stop due to other attention hogging issues. This particular distraction is really fantastic at placing itself right where I need to do my next task. She should work in government.
Anything that is transplanted on my farm (but most especially tomatoes) gets a handful of bone-meal thrown into the ol' transplanting hole. Bone-meal is especially helpful in facilitating rooting in plants, and it helps stave of blossom end rot in tomatoes. I don't know about ya'll, but one of the greatest horror movies of all time is when you go out and observe your lush, green tomato plants only to never see them set a fruit, for instead the plant's lovely blossoms wither and fall to the ground, screaming. Okay not screaming, that would be you howling in tomato deprived agony. Just do yourself a favor and plunk a handful of bone-meal into the hole when you transplant your tomatoes and avoid the entire horrid blossom end rot scenario.
Extra photographic example of bone-meal addage. IT IS THAT IMPORTANT!
Moving on from the bone-meal, it is now time to introduce your tomato transplants to their new home.
Be gentle with the little plants as you place them in the hole they will call home for the next few months.
Once they are in their new home, bury the little suckers up the stem as far as you can without completely giving the plant a funeral. As much stem as possible should be under the soil, for that chunk of stem will root into the soil and make your plant almost Chuck Norris strong. Note that I said "almost" Chuck Norris fans, even I wouldn't go that far.
Water your little transplant, and don't forget that you will need some sort of support if you transplanted an indeterminate variety of tomato. I know that I am spoiled because I have welded Rebar tomato cages, but anything remotely solid will do, for years I used various homemade manifestations of lodge pole pine stakes to stake my tomatoes, be creative!
Step back and admire your handiwork, those teenagers are in the big world now! Other than some watering, sucker pruning, and fertilizing/compost adding, your little tomatoes are on their way to adulting! WOO!
And as always, all of the images in this post were taken on the author's garden soil encrusted iPhone.