If someone had told me a couple of years ago that I would be excitedly examining the "Black Prince" variety and arguing in a chat about mulch, I would have laughed. And then spring happened, quarantine, free time and a small plot of land at my parents'. That's where it all started.

The first year was a failure. I planted everything that came to hand, and did it anyhow. Naturally, the tomatoes died in July. But anger woke up in me. I read a bunch of forums, videos from grandmothers and professionals, started a notebook with observations. And last summer - I had a record. I collected almost 30 kg of tomatoes from 5 bushes. Without a gram of chemicals. Everything is only from love, observation and a little magic.

Here are my rules.
First, do not skimp on seeds. I choose only proven varieties: "Black Moor", "De Barao pink" and "Sanka". All are determinate, resistant and have excellent taste.
Second, I prepare the soil as if it were a holiday. In the spring, I put ash, humus, eggshells and a little old compost there. The soil should be alive, smell like a forest after rain.
Third, watering. Only in the morning. Only under the root. The leaves should remain dry. Especially in July - when it is hot and there is a risk of fungus.
Fourth, mulch. I cover each bush with hay. This restrains the evaporation of moisture, repels weeds and, it seems, makes the tomatoes tastier.
And fifthly, I talk to them. Seriously. Every evening. I say, “Thank you for growing. I’m proud of you.” It sounds funny, but I believe that plants feel it.

When my friends came in the summer, we cut these tomatoes and ate them with just salt and butter. And no one believed that I grew them myself. Without fertilizers, without stimulants, just with my hands in the ground and a sparkle in my eyes.

Now I know for sure: growing something with your own hands is a very intimate, powerful feeling. It seems to you that you’re just digging in the ground. And then you eat what you grew yourself. And that’s where the power lies.