Your description of the smell of tomato plants is so timely and spot-on. Every day I take a mid-morning break from working at home to tend to the tomato plants. They’re in an elevated planting bed a tad too close to the hot tub on one side and a fig tree that’s exploding in growth on the other, so I have to squeeze myself into a narrow gap to get to the center plants.
The cool, leafy greenness of the plants is face-high, so I get a deep and rich dose of tomato plant air with every inhalation. The zen of gardening, away from my laptop even just for a few minutes, is restorative and grounding.
Thank you for putting such a beautiful voice to this simple and necessary pleasure.
Beautiful, Chris. The other thing about that smell... it is so distinct that I think it helps make our our memories of other times we've smelled it intense and specific. One friend tells me that *every* time she smells tomato leaves, she gets these intense sense memories of her Italian grandma. For me, I can see the literal pots I grew my first tomatoes in, and remember the place I used to stand while watering them (under the creepy deck, minding my head for spiders, but also facing west, sun fading in late summer with the fog finally gone).
Side note: fig trees GO. We had one at our old house and the landlady would chop it to nothing and then the next year ... A NEW FIG TREE would exist.
Evolution is good. I’m not surprised that you’ve pulled away from writing about the internet. It’s changed, as you’ve said, to something less about being an explorer in a strange new world with seemingly limitless possibilities, to something more sinister, like hard drugs. What’s that people say about hard drugs, I don’t want to try them because I’m afraid that I’ll like it? (And then get pulled down beneath the waves)
I’d never grown anything from seed before in my 47 years until 6 months ago, when I planted some tomatillos from seed. Tomatillos aren’t common in Australia where I live, so when I saw the seeds at the local hardware store, I knew I had to try. I miss them from when I used to live in Denver, like missing something you can’t have.
So I planted the seeds, probably 2 months too late, and yet they grew, despite my mismanagement and terrible staking, and in the end I was able to make one batch of salsa from the fruit, and it was a delight.
Ah, I love that story. I do not know what I would do if I could not get tomatillos. Well, actually, now I know what I would do. I would plant some seeds and reap one amazing batch of salsa, which I would parcel out in tiny spoonfuls until it went bad long before I finished the jar. Life gives and life takes, you know?
THRILLED about this reimagining, Alexis!! To say it resonates with where I'm at is an understatement and I'm very psyched about the upcoming drops besides :)
Thank you! Finally blogging kinda regularly again after very sporadic output for many years (mainly caused by 2016 + pandemic)! And I keep all the ancient posts up there to keep me humble haha.
Part of the resonance was what you wrote about wearying of the attention economy of being extremely online. I am a perpetually curious person who is always looking to expand rather than contract, and I've been trying to disengage from social media and online attention grabs and get back to looking for small wonders in the outside world instead, on my daily Oakland morning walks for example, or in local art and culture and food.
As for garden club vibes, in the last year my wee Oakland apartment became home to a thriving spider plant, bird's nest fern, and peperomia...which is three more plants than I've ever been able to keep alive in the past so I'm very proud! They keep me company in the kitchen which is also my WFH office, where they live on top of my kitchen cabinet because even though they are cat-safe I don't trust my cats not to go on a greenery rampage if given the opportunity. I'm eager to add more plant friends (especially now that I've been introduced to the fabulous Broadway Terrace Nursery) but taking it slow and learning as I go!
I think my emerging contention is that just-there-ness of the world really masks so much. I think of AI photo tagging. You show it a picture of a specific 400-year-old oak tree, which had been alive for 200 years when Lewis and Clark passed by it on their way to a small indigenous village. A being that hosts hundreds (thousands?) of other species and that has specifically altered its environment in so many ways and that is in that specific spot for many interesting reasons, some of which can be known. You ask the AI in the way we do, and it will say: "tree" or maybe "oak tree."
Which is not factually incorrect, but it is ... deeply, deeply incomplete. And I worry that we're letting ourselves live in that incomplete world way more often than makes sense (or makes us happy).
Oh my gosh, those are beautiful! The IO and the Octolillo. And the lobivia ... actually all of them. Truly so cool. Let's be in touch. Just followed on IG and signed up for the email list.
I like plants too. If you're into Sun Golds, you should meet the sprawling descendants of a Matt's Wild Cherry that I planted in LA about 10 years ago. They like my Bushrod yard even better, have self-propagated along with the favas and my neighbor's tree collard, even in the hell strip. I feel like they're thumbing their tiny red noses at the dozen varieties that my spouse starts on purpose under lights... North Oakland garden tour?
One mad year, I had the idea to plant 300 heirloom tomato plants, and so I did. I lugged fish guts for them, foraged off the piers at Moss Landing. I raised these babies from seed, and I fed them bone meal and blood meal and potassium and the stinky bony heads of hundreds of fishes. My station wagon never smelled the same after that, and I have hauled an entire llama in that car. But that is a different story ...
I bought spools of concrete reinforcing wire and built cages seven feet tall for them with zip ties. I ran drip irrigation for them, fertilized them again every week. I carefully, painstakingly wove their tendrils back into the cages everyday, while pruning out the lower leaves for airflow, ventilation and disease prevention. I slaughtered thousands of snails, by hand and with the help of my hens. I was ENSLAVED to those tomato plants, for around eight months.
And it totally paid off. I had a ridiculous glorious abundance of tomatoes, glistening piles of red but also gold, orange, rainbow stripes and purples too. The flavors were phenomenal, fruity, wild, citric and sweet too. I have never grown tomatoes again. But I do miss the smell of the leaves.
Congratulations to your all plants project?...I hope I can afford to upgrade.
And yes, delving, diving, exploring the infinite world plants represent does be more rewarding than the endless tech navel gazing contributing or causing unlimited growth....
This is so on-point for me! I switched my major to agronomy, I got a PhD in plant biology, my profession takes me to where I have to make a living, but my fascination takes me to plants. Not that I'm good at it. But in every dimension pretty rad. Thanks for sharing. Missed you!
I'm so happy to see this pivot away from the ouroboros of modern tech. Plants - whether we're growing them, cooking them, or appreciating them with eyes instead of cameras - seem a kind of antidote to the learned helplessness of an extremely online world.
Totally. I can't remember who said it (probably Robin Sloan?) but EVEN THE INTERNET is better when it is not made up exclusively of other internet. You know what I mean? There's so much out in the world to bring into our minds, even if eventually it becomes the thing we now call content.
Thank you, Alejandro. I have a whole post about the literal movement of plant growth (at least in morning glories) — you're gonna love it. Probably will send it out this weekend.
Thank you for this! I went to the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum this spring when her legacy nasturtiums bloomed in the courtyard she built in real life from her imagination.
They have a feature in the magazine on that and how it works, etc! I would love to find an artistic practice that let me co-produce work with plants. We'll see.
Your description of the smell of tomato plants is so timely and spot-on. Every day I take a mid-morning break from working at home to tend to the tomato plants. They’re in an elevated planting bed a tad too close to the hot tub on one side and a fig tree that’s exploding in growth on the other, so I have to squeeze myself into a narrow gap to get to the center plants.
The cool, leafy greenness of the plants is face-high, so I get a deep and rich dose of tomato plant air with every inhalation. The zen of gardening, away from my laptop even just for a few minutes, is restorative and grounding.
Thank you for putting such a beautiful voice to this simple and necessary pleasure.
Beautiful, Chris. The other thing about that smell... it is so distinct that I think it helps make our our memories of other times we've smelled it intense and specific. One friend tells me that *every* time she smells tomato leaves, she gets these intense sense memories of her Italian grandma. For me, I can see the literal pots I grew my first tomatoes in, and remember the place I used to stand while watering them (under the creepy deck, minding my head for spiders, but also facing west, sun fading in late summer with the fog finally gone).
Side note: fig trees GO. We had one at our old house and the landlady would chop it to nothing and then the next year ... A NEW FIG TREE would exist.
Evolution is good. I’m not surprised that you’ve pulled away from writing about the internet. It’s changed, as you’ve said, to something less about being an explorer in a strange new world with seemingly limitless possibilities, to something more sinister, like hard drugs. What’s that people say about hard drugs, I don’t want to try them because I’m afraid that I’ll like it? (And then get pulled down beneath the waves)
I’d never grown anything from seed before in my 47 years until 6 months ago, when I planted some tomatillos from seed. Tomatillos aren’t common in Australia where I live, so when I saw the seeds at the local hardware store, I knew I had to try. I miss them from when I used to live in Denver, like missing something you can’t have.
So I planted the seeds, probably 2 months too late, and yet they grew, despite my mismanagement and terrible staking, and in the end I was able to make one batch of salsa from the fruit, and it was a delight.
Good luck with your new seedling!
Ah, I love that story. I do not know what I would do if I could not get tomatillos. Well, actually, now I know what I would do. I would plant some seeds and reap one amazing batch of salsa, which I would parcel out in tiny spoonfuls until it went bad long before I finished the jar. Life gives and life takes, you know?
THRILLED about this reimagining, Alexis!! To say it resonates with where I'm at is an understatement and I'm very psyched about the upcoming drops besides :)
I also just checked in on your new(ish) blog! What a delight
Thank you! Finally blogging kinda regularly again after very sporadic output for many years (mainly caused by 2016 + pandemic)! And I keep all the ancient posts up there to keep me humble haha.
Part of the resonance was what you wrote about wearying of the attention economy of being extremely online. I am a perpetually curious person who is always looking to expand rather than contract, and I've been trying to disengage from social media and online attention grabs and get back to looking for small wonders in the outside world instead, on my daily Oakland morning walks for example, or in local art and culture and food.
As for garden club vibes, in the last year my wee Oakland apartment became home to a thriving spider plant, bird's nest fern, and peperomia...which is three more plants than I've ever been able to keep alive in the past so I'm very proud! They keep me company in the kitchen which is also my WFH office, where they live on top of my kitchen cabinet because even though they are cat-safe I don't trust my cats not to go on a greenery rampage if given the opportunity. I'm eager to add more plant friends (especially now that I've been introduced to the fabulous Broadway Terrace Nursery) but taking it slow and learning as I go!
I think my emerging contention is that just-there-ness of the world really masks so much. I think of AI photo tagging. You show it a picture of a specific 400-year-old oak tree, which had been alive for 200 years when Lewis and Clark passed by it on their way to a small indigenous village. A being that hosts hundreds (thousands?) of other species and that has specifically altered its environment in so many ways and that is in that specific spot for many interesting reasons, some of which can be known. You ask the AI in the way we do, and it will say: "tree" or maybe "oak tree."
Which is not factually incorrect, but it is ... deeply, deeply incomplete. And I worry that we're letting ourselves live in that incomplete world way more often than makes sense (or makes us happy).
I want to know how it resonates with you! Have you gone full plant person?? There are so many varieties to choose from, too.
Delighted by this evolution! I’m caudexstudio on IG. Looking forward.
Oh my gosh, those are beautiful! The IO and the Octolillo. And the lobivia ... actually all of them. Truly so cool. Let's be in touch. Just followed on IG and signed up for the email list.
I like plants too. If you're into Sun Golds, you should meet the sprawling descendants of a Matt's Wild Cherry that I planted in LA about 10 years ago. They like my Bushrod yard even better, have self-propagated along with the favas and my neighbor's tree collard, even in the hell strip. I feel like they're thumbing their tiny red noses at the dozen varieties that my spouse starts on purpose under lights... North Oakland garden tour?
Email me! I want to come see!
Good luck with your new Substack. An intriguing idea.
One mad year, I had the idea to plant 300 heirloom tomato plants, and so I did. I lugged fish guts for them, foraged off the piers at Moss Landing. I raised these babies from seed, and I fed them bone meal and blood meal and potassium and the stinky bony heads of hundreds of fishes. My station wagon never smelled the same after that, and I have hauled an entire llama in that car. But that is a different story ...
I bought spools of concrete reinforcing wire and built cages seven feet tall for them with zip ties. I ran drip irrigation for them, fertilized them again every week. I carefully, painstakingly wove their tendrils back into the cages everyday, while pruning out the lower leaves for airflow, ventilation and disease prevention. I slaughtered thousands of snails, by hand and with the help of my hens. I was ENSLAVED to those tomato plants, for around eight months.
And it totally paid off. I had a ridiculous glorious abundance of tomatoes, glistening piles of red but also gold, orange, rainbow stripes and purples too. The flavors were phenomenal, fruity, wild, citric and sweet too. I have never grown tomatoes again. But I do miss the smell of the leaves.
Looked for a link to subscribe....your 'MANAGE YOUR SUBSCRIPTION' is a dead end.....why?
Congratulations to your all plants project?...I hope I can afford to upgrade.
And yes, delving, diving, exploring the infinite world plants represent does be more rewarding than the endless tech navel gazing contributing or causing unlimited growth....
This is so on-point for me! I switched my major to agronomy, I got a PhD in plant biology, my profession takes me to where I have to make a living, but my fascination takes me to plants. Not that I'm good at it. But in every dimension pretty rad. Thanks for sharing. Missed you!
"...We can be made generous by the sheer glory of even a single tomato plant."
Such a beautiful line!
I'm so happy to see this pivot away from the ouroboros of modern tech. Plants - whether we're growing them, cooking them, or appreciating them with eyes instead of cameras - seem a kind of antidote to the learned helplessness of an extremely online world.
Totally. I can't remember who said it (probably Robin Sloan?) but EVEN THE INTERNET is better when it is not made up exclusively of other internet. You know what I mean? There's so much out in the world to bring into our minds, even if eventually it becomes the thing we now call content.
Love the idea. I’m vibing with themes like growth and moving a little slower in the world. Also great to see this newsletter pop up in my inbox.
Thank you, Alejandro. I have a whole post about the literal movement of plant growth (at least in morning glories) — you're gonna love it. Probably will send it out this weekend.
no s/o cactus store??
I don’t know it! But I looked it up, and now I an psyched. Thank you!
Thrilled to see you going in this direction.
I’ve been a gardener for 15 years and would love to open a portal to real understanding of nasturtiums.
Oh man, yeah. I LOVE THEM. You need this Dutch/Spanish publication PLEASANT PLACE. The second issue is all about nasturtiums!
https://pleasantplace.space
In fact, I will probably write something about that exact magazine, which is deeply inspiring, I think.
Thank you for this! I went to the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum this spring when her legacy nasturtiums bloomed in the courtyard she built in real life from her imagination.
They have a feature in the magazine on that and how it works, etc! I would love to find an artistic practice that let me co-produce work with plants. We'll see.
I ordered the magazines and I'm laughing that they have leaves and insects on the order form so you can't see what you're typing