I have been growing 'Sarandipity' for several years now, and I consider it an outstanding tomato, and I highly recommend it.

A regular, rugose leaf, dwarf (tree type) tomato.

Sarandipity produces a prolific yield of round, medium, uniformly sized and shaped tomatoes that are brick-red, chocolate colored with green stripes, with mild, sweet, complex flavors.

Developed by the Dwarf Tomato Project. It originated from a cross made by Ray South between an early Cheeky selection (from Dwarf project work) and Black Zebra and named Streaky. Sarandipity was selected and named by my friend Craig LeHoullier. Craig chose to combine the serendipitous nature of great dwarf project discoveries with his daughter Sara's name, hence Sarandipity.

I’ll use the subject of ‘the serendipitous nature’ of things to share with you our week of tomato harvesting under difficult conditions. We’ve had the good fortune to be spared from being in the path of fire.

Dagma and I are working in our tomato field in Hollister, California, under a smoke-filled sky from the state’s historically devastating fires: north, south, east and west of us, while friends and family members are losing their homes to raging fires. Standing in the field, under a gloomy, ash-gray sky, I wondered from the taste and texture of each breath, as each wing of death touched me with nails of loss, what would come from this. We grieve for that, and those, who have burned. We plant and grow and harvest––and plant again.

I’m thrilled that it’s heirloom tomato harvest time.

Normally, during tomato harvest we get to the field in the early morning darkness and wait in the quiet of falling dew for enough light to harvest and photograph the fruit on the vine. I love the confident crusade of a sunrise. But under this cheerless sky, no less a favored for its brooding reach, our plants are deprived of the awakening call from a rising sun.

Bummer!

However, we’ve found some unsought treasures (not that we don’t find these daily, anyway): we have a longer window of time for photography––without the contrast of shadows and light from direct sunlight that tomatoes seem to adore; we can work longer hours in the field under cooler temps; we’ve been enjoying many picnics-for-two from surviving take-out restaurants.

Dagma and I work by ourselves most of the time. And like most farm workers (and other responsible folks) we wear facemasks to protect our lungs from the toxic smoke, and to protect ourselves, and others, from COVID-19. More and more, we’ve come to really cherish being within the sanctuary of our home and nature, mask-less, finding adventure in smaller spaces.

Okay, it’s time to make a tomato salad vinaigrette

Bon Appetit!