Growing Tomatoes and Nurturing Your Art Practice

I am 64yrs old and I have JUST…grown my first tomatoes.

Better late than never, right?

In the spring, one of my students entrusted me with two tomato plants. I marveled at her assumed faith in my ability to nurture them to fruition. I don’t have a great history with plants, mostly because I get busy and forget to water them. I don’t even know what specific kind of tomatoes these are. I just know one is a cherry, and the other, larger.  

I decided to give this tomato project a go by jumping in headfirst and learning as I went along.  I bought a half wine barrel on sale at the market, filled it with dirt and transplanted the young plants into their new home. I put them right outside my art studio because I knew I would walk by them every day. If they needed watering, it would be hard to miss. This simple strategy of putting them in my line-of-sight raised the probability of their survival by leaps and bounds.

I went to the nursery to inquire about plant food and was told that the tomatoes would also need a cage.  “Ok, I’ll take two,” I told the salesclerk. As I was waiting for her to finish ringing me up, my eyes spotted a very fancy galvanized watering can on the top shelf behind her. My mind drifted as I envisioned myself using it and feeling official as I embodied my new role as The Tomato Whisperer. I felt a huge wave of enthusiasm, hope, and lust roll over me. I thought of the delight and pride I would feel while watering my plants with that thing. An indulgence, yes, but certainly, having the right equipment would not only bring me joy, but would also be more fun than dragging the hose across the lawn. “How much is that watering can?” I asked the clerk. “Sixty-Five dollars,” she said. “Uh, yeah. O.K. never mind,” I said as I swiped my card for the other items.

I returned home and put the cages on the plants. A few weeks later a couple of friends came by, and I proudly showed them my new tomato project. They stood there with expressions of admiration for a respectful duration of time.  Then, quite graciously, one said, “You DO know that you have the cages upside down, don’t you?” An aghast pause of disbelief was followed abruptly by a thunderous guffaw so loud a flock of crows took flight from their perch.  After recovering, I calmly replied to the inquiry. “Well, no, actually. I did not know that. But I DO sincerely thank you for schooling me,” I said with tears of laughter running down my face.

The next day, I chuckled as I inverted the cages to their correct position, carefully moving the vines to avoid breakage. These little plants were certainly doing a good job of growing-- as long as I watered them. I marveled at their steady progression and thought about the process of growth in general, and that of learning new things. An unexpected sense of satisfaction and confidence was emerging in me, and I found myself anticipating a new discovery each time I tended to them. What an unexpected surprise.  I finished my watering and pulled the hose back across the lawn. As I did, my mind wandered back to that darned watering can. And again, a relentless wave of desire crashed over me.  Sigh.     

THE UPDATE: The tomato plants are flourishing. I check them every day to see when it will be time to pick the very first one. I’m serious when I tell you, that might literally be later today. Oh, and one last thing. That galvanized steel watering can I mentioned?  Yeah… it makes me smile every time I use it.

How could growing tomatoes possibly relate to cultivating your art practice?

1.     Try something new, even if it is intimidating. Jump in!

2.     Buy the right tools, it really does matter.

3.     Show your work to people. Learn with an open heart. Be amused by your mistakes.

4.     Have your art space available, in your frequent line of sight, and easy to attend to.  

5.     Water the plants…and your art practice.

Happy Growing, 

Linda

 Copyright (c) 2025 Linda Cloonan, all rights reserved.