Hello, all gardeners! We return today with an update on a potted tomato plant that is not so little anymore. In fact, it's looking a bit leggy. This is a tinguaráque, a wild strain native to Mexico. I usually find them growing in the mountains but on the edges of people's farmland, in the surrounding trench where there is still some extra water. They are tiny but fast and heavy producers. This particular plant is from seeds that I have already cultivated here on my land for a few seasons, a couple of generations old.
Archival photo from a few years back.
Here's an old photo reference of the tiny fruits. I haven't grown these for a while because they can get a little weedy, like most tomatoes, and its worse since these are wild. They drop a lot of berries if you're not on your toes. The next year, or even the same year, you'll have to pull out a TON of tomato weeds sprouting up everywhere. When I do deliberately cultivate these hardy plants, I do it singly. This will be the only plant of its kind in my garden this year.
Now that the first flower has bloomed, I've been watching lots of tomato videos on Youtube, mostly about hand pollination techniques. This video by Room To Grow stood out to me and there was also a funny part. When Greg starts talking about the natural ways tomatoes are pollinated and mentions bees visiting flowers, the clip does not actually show a bee at all, which I found hilarious. What is pictured is a hoverfly; they are true flies just like your common house fly or horsefly but they have stripes like bees, fooling most humans, too. I am a huge entomology geek so don't worry. If you see one, they key to identifying it is its very flat body, no apparent antennae, and no obnoxious buzzing sound! They are small, but you may see them hovering silently in place like little flying saucers. I wish I had a photo of both.
The first cluster of flowers is already opening and there is already a second one. This plant is part of a larger experiment (of course it is) to hybridize with Black Beauty Tomatoes, which I always seem to be dreaming about... And losing the seeds. I wanted to stagger the planting, mostly because I didn't think these old tinguaráque seeds would even sprout. But now that the plant is thriving I can no longer find the other half of this experiment. They'll turn up soon.
The end goal is to have some tiny black cherry tomatoes reminiscent of black nightshade berries but without the aftertaste.
My own photo of black nightshade in morning dew.
This should be a fun experiment, only the end result will of course be a hybrid so planting those seeds will yield a mix of things. But what about the seeds of the next generation? Or the seeds of the next? What does it take to achieve genetic stability? If it's genetics we're talking about, then the answer might be achieved through random trial and error.
Until next time. Thanks for reading!
