That Tomato Lady

First of all, a very happy Easter to all; May your spring be wet, but not too wet… warm, but not too hot. We could all use a good spring and the prospects for many more to come. Visiting with my daughters this weekend I had an interesting exchange with Cara, our daughter studying Journalism at University of Missouri.

First of all, you have nothing to complain about weather-wise compared to those poor folks in Missouri. This past week they had over twelve inches of rain! Makes those rain barrels seem silly, doesn’t it?

Well, we picked up the rental car in Phoenix and started the long trek back to the desert. We started talking, and believe it or not, she didn’t know that dear old dad writes a weekly blog. So we got to talking about blogs. It turns out I didn’t know that she wrote a blog. She was a little more reluctant to have me read hers than the opposite.

All that set aside for another day, we had an interesting talk about life beyond college. The conversation ranged wildly, but for the sake of this post I will confine it to communes. (I guess it was because Woodstock was playing on the radio). It wasn’t that she was necessarily enamored with the sixties, but rather a sense of finding peace in a simple lifestyle.

“I want to grow my own vegetables, have a few chickens and sell excess produce at the farmer’s market. I want to be ‘that tomato lady’. You know,” she explained, “that lady that grows those killer tomatoes.”

Which led us to Fritz; Fritz was my grandfather and her great-grandfather who, in true German fashion, had a rather prolific vegetable and fruit garden in the backyard of his 1950’s tract home in California. Fritz and Anna were from the old country. The backyard featured blackberries, raspberries, tangerines, climbing roses, pole beans, plums, apples and ‘killer’ tomatoes (and much more).

In a scene right out of the Godfather - the first one, where Marlon Brando keels over in his veggie garden after chasing his grandson around with an orange peel grin – I have memories of a six year old tied to those summers growing up in Sunnyvale (true story). It was in that sunny garden that I was exposed to grafting fruit trees (his friends included a rather talented Swiss arborist), drying fruit and of course growing tomatoes. It was there that I learned an ‘organic’ approach to pest control – a sharp knife applied to those giant green tomato worms.

As we fast-forward to the rental car, I wondered what would inspire the next generation to value a simpler time where you ate tomatoes still warm from the sun, and squeezed lemons into a juice glass.

You see, I think Cara’s fascination is not necessarily horticultural, but rather the sense of community that comes from those that share similar interests. Isn’t that the whole appeal of blogging, facebooks and Bonnaroo?

Of course I have a tendency to generalizing, but I am starting to form an opinion that the garden center of the future is going to be formed more by the ‘kindly and knowledgeable’ garden guy/gal than by branded pots. At the risk of dumping just another buzz word on you, advertisers are now enamored with ‘authenticity’. Whether it is an experience, a relationship, or in this case a tomato, people can tell the difference between the real deal and a poser (sorry).

Building on last week’s post – inspiration – I would like to stress the importance of distinguishing yourself from the competition (it is easier to think of it as a box-store for now) with inspiration and information. You might shudder at the thought, but your presence in the marketplace might be enhanced with your presence in the marketplace.

In a complicated world, people continue to seek peace and quiet wherever they can find it. Maybe the seeds for that future tomato garden can find their start at your local, authentic, grass roots, tree-hugging, green loving, inspirational garden center.

Here’s a hint – you can’t connect unless you’re out there (virtually or otherwise) talking with your customers.