Czech Balcony Tomatoes

 

Saving seeds from Aztek tomatoes

I grow at least 30 tomato plants every year and like to grow unusual heritage varieties. I have found Czech tomato varieties to be particularly good for growing outdoors in my British garden. I think this is because unlike varieties from southern Europe, the Czech varieties are used to having a short growing season and cooler weather. 

A particular Czech speciality is 'balkonovy' tomatoes - tomatoes designed to be grown in pots on the balconies of Czech flats. In fact two of my favourites can even be grown on a window sill. These are Aztek (a lovely yellow cherry tomato, see photo) and Vilma (a red tomato). They are described as dwarf or micro-dwarf tomatoes - they grow to about a foot tall (30 cms). Despite their limited height they are remarkably productive and the fruit is really tasty.

I brought the seeds back from the Czech Republic before Brexit restrictions hit and I have been saving seeds from my plants ever since. As always I have more seeds than I need each year and so I share them with two seedsaving groups I belong to. They have proved very popular. Their small size means that you can grow them anywhere sunny where there's room for a pot and they work really well at the front of flowerbeds. 

Aztek and Vilma seeds are now available online in the UK from She Grows Veg, they're not cheap but of course once bought you can save seeds for future years, as I do, as both are heritage varieties. 

If you are interested in a normal height Czech tomato - try Stupice (Stupicke Polni Rane) which is available from a number of online sellers. It is early to crop, goes on until the last frost, and is very tasty.  

Hannah's Peony - a poem

Next to the front door at Hannah's lake cottage was a spectacular peony. After she died and before the cottage was sold, I dug up part of the plant and moved it to the garden of my Czech home, where it flourished. I was unable to take the plant with me to England, when I moved back, so have bought a similar one in memory of her - not quite the same, but the best I can do.

Here's a poem I wrote on the subject. It was first published in Dawntreader magazine (Indigo Dreams).

Hannah’s Peony. 

By the tumble of stones the peony
too red to be natural, too bloody
to be anything but
a token of things to come, and yet of itself
a now thing
bursting into flowered song
 
each petal a note
until they fall, stripped by rain
or just exhaustion,
the quick decline of the perfect,
and helmeted seed heads stand instead
until they too must bend to the seasons.
 
How it had blazed, asking
for nothing but a place in the earth.
 
When you died I dug up a piece of you –
this flower too bright to live –
planted it by the ruined woodshed,
surrounded it with stakes
to protect against the deer’s rough tongue.
 
And so each year this witch flower
burns again.

Going back to Prague

As you will know from previous posts the Czech Republic has always been inspirational in my writing. My latest project (although it is a project already several years old) is a poetry collection about the country and my friend Hannah Kodicek: my relationship with both and their loss. 

I am currently stuck. I have a reasonable number of poems that are inspired by South Bohemia and my home there, but I have very few about Prague. And yet Prague was where I first fell in love with this country and where I first felt its inspiration. For many years now Prague has been somewhere I went through on my way to somewhere else or at best somewhere I was showing someone else around. How could I rekindle my poet's response to the city?

I decided to make a visit to the city with a view to writing, to remind myself of some of the feelings I first had when Hannah introduced me to her home city in March 1990. This is the last day of my six-day visit. And I can tell you it hasn't worked or not yet at least. 

This photo above is symbolic of the task I have set myself. It is of the statue of a girl with a dove in Park Holubicka. I first stumbled upon it in 1990 and was enchanted. I was completely alone and snow nestled on her head instead of a pigeon and muffled the air. I made a point of seeking out the park a few days ago, but as you can see I was far from alone - the park benches were full of noisy people, many of them tourists, and the magic just wasn't there. I suspect I need to come either early in the morning or late in the evening to get what I am looking for. Perhaps I am looking for something that is lost. Or maybe it was simply the gloss of memory and never was. But I don't believe that, Prague's deep soul could not be so easily mislaid.