Given that the hot, dry summers of my youth are nowhere to be found in this chilly rain forest, I’ve devised an alternative plan that happens to befit this geography: container garden tomatoes.

Here in the Northwest soil temperature is as big a deterrent to planting as are cloudy skies. Between the two, I’ve experienced tomato transplants that sit soldier-like in frigid soil well into May, only to finally die a shivering death just before the sun appears for the summer. I’ve had trays of seedlings thrust their anxious leaves joyfully through the soil and then be sizzled by an unseasonal day of heat. And I’ve had precious starters drowned by lingering showers before they have a chance to thrive.

The happy fact is, however, that even in this soggy environment you can grow robust tomato vines. Just make sure you have at least a few hours of full exposure for best results. By implementing a couple of tricks, you’ll be able to extrapolate that sunshine into a beautiful feast.

This potting technique works best with starters, either large seedlings you’ve started yourself, or store-bought transplants. Look for the sturdiest stems and close-set leaves. A leggy plant is indicative of a weaker plant.

Begin with a dark container of some capacity, perhaps 1.5 cubic feet or so. You’ll want the tomato roots to have plenty of room to collect moisture and nutrients from the soil, and the dark color warms up faster to attract more of the day’s heat, boosting the growing season. Place the pot in a sunny location. Later in the season when the sunshine is more reliable, you’ll need to be sure the pot is kept well-watered or protected from the worst of the late afternoon sun.

Ensure the pot has a good drainage hole at the bottom. If your pot does not have a drain hole, either drill one yourself using a round hole saw blade, or plan to use a liner of some kind that does. Then line the bottom of the pot with an inch or so of large gravel.

Fill your container or liner with potting soil to about 2” from the top and pack it firmly with your hands. Next, dig out a hole about 2” wider in circumference than your plant, and 3” or so deeper. Remove the plant from its container and set it in the bottom of the hole, ensuring that the lower leaves will be below ground level. Once planted, these leaves will root, providing more stability and nutrient avenues for the vine.

Pack soil firmly around the plant, adding more as needed to keep it firmly upright. Water the plant thoroughly but gently, until the excess begins trickling out the drain hole. For the next couple of weeks while the roots set in their new environment, protect the plant from excessive rainfall or unseasonal heat, and keep the soil moist but not wet.

If you’re so inclined, plant a smaller pot with basil at the same time. Tomatoes and basil prefer the same exposure, making them perfect partners. Just don’t make the mistake of planting them together—both will grow larger than you expect, and could steal nutrients or simply overpower the other.

Salut!

Second Floor Tomato Gardening

There are those of us who just can’t get used to the idea of growing tomatoes topsy-turvy, even when one’s container gardening must be scrunched within the tiniest footprint of a second-floor balcony. I’m one of those people.

Maybe it’s the fact that I grew up with a huge garden from whence luscious, home-grown produce appeared for breakfast, lunch and dinner as soon as the summer heated up. Breakfast might be a watermelon so ripe its juices leaked out with the first cut. Or strawberries mashed, then spread over waffles.

Almost every dinner included a platter of fresh, crunchy ears of corn, ten minutes off the stalk then quickly plunged into a vat of boiling water and spread with butter. We ate those first, before they got cold. The free-range beef or chicken that comprised the entrée was relegated to secondary status as a bowl of steaming green beans was attacked next, their summery flavor enhanced only with a sprinkling of salt.

Yellow summer squash was a frequent guest, as well, typically breaded and fried in the southern style my father preferred. I have to admit it wasn’t my favorite, cooked that way, and it took me until adulthood to grow fond of the vegetable and its delightful blossoms.

But it was always—always—the tomatoes that hailed the season, and we ate them morning, noon and night until the last plant froze over, finally, and had to be pulled. Fat, red beefsteaks, tiny yellow plums—there were so many of them that in our bounteous innocence we not only snacked on them, but used them as ordnance for tomato wars, flinging them across the rows in evil sibling rivalry to splat against a pair of shorts as they bent over to weed. The spillage, of course, would root itself into a volunteer four rows away later in the season.

So it is that two years of living in a city townhouse has elevated my frustration level to a point that I have thrown down the gardening gloves…er, the gauntlet…and will be growing a vegetable garden this year, all of it in pots and containers. No more scavenging the handoff produce of someone else’s plot. (Well, okay, maybe just a little…) But from now until the autumn frosts begin, I’ll be finding ways to grow everything possible in my little balcony garden patch.

Lots more to come, as the growing season is just beginning in the Northwest. I’ve just planted some lettuces, parsley and basil. Send me your solutions for container vegetable gardening!