Our preschool (previously known as EFSC Lab School) has prepared garden beds for the children to plant, care for and nurture within the playground space over the years. These gardens are typically small, but often prolific, with native flowers, a lone pineapple or pumpkin plant, or seasonal vegetables or herbs. When the Cocoa Beach Riverside Presbyterian Church location closed in April 2020 due the Covid-19 restrictions, our garden and playground were neglected for many months. I tried to maintain the playground space to weed or clean with the hope that the students would once again run and play on the grounds. As months passed, the weeds took over our neatly mulched play yard. One of those “weeds” was a native tomato plant that had sprouted from the original plant in the small garden. It had been covered in sweet, dime-sized tomatoes, and now there were dozens of tomato plants scattered all over the play yard. As I pulled up one plant after another, I decided to take a few plants home to see if I could transplant them into my backyard garden.
At first, the 2-3 tomato plants wilted and looked sad that I had moved them from their neglected but sunny playground. I tucked the tomato plants in fertile soil, watered the plants regularly, and even trimmed back a large tree so that the new plants received plenty of hot sun. The plants perked up a bit, spread their leggy branches, produced about 5 delicious sweet tomatoes, and then slowly withered and disappeared into the soil as the hot, wet summer approached. I was disappointed but decided that maybe I shouldn’t have moved them. They had seemed so happy in the abandoned playground. Maybe the tomatoes just didn’t like my garden, or I had overwatered, or maybe not enough sun. I would never know, I thought…
But then I spotted them. Dozens of baby tomato plants sprouted up in my empty late winter garden bed. Within a month, my garden exploded with fast-growing, long-leggy plants covered in tiny, green tomatoes. I placed tomato cages in and around these huge plants, attempting to keep them contained, but to no avail. They not only grew out, they grew up. And then the delicate tomatoes began to ripen! I discovered that despite their small size, the super sweet tomatoes were delicious and prolific. I began to fill bowls, bags and containers with juicy, red pearls to give to neighbors, friends and even the mailman. I dug up small tomato plants to share with anyone who would take them and couldn’t stop sharing photos with my distant family of my early Spring bounty.
A large bowl of recently harvested, still warm tomatoes sits on my counter, begging to be eaten. I plan to give them to a new neighbor who just moved in next door from a much colder state. What better way to welcome them to our beautiful area then with sweet, fresh tomatoes from my backyard garden? But I know that these tomatoes are not just from me. They are a legacy from teachers and students who prepared, planted, tended and harvested the first plant many years ago. They are from the groundskeeper who would douse the dry plants when rain was scarce and school was out. They are from the wind and birds who spread their fruit and seeds all over the quiet playground. And they are from my small effort to remove and replant what was left abandoned. The Lab School playground tomatoes will be a legacy that continues to give well beyond today.
