If you’re the kind of person who gets super excited about planting tomatoes… and then forgets about them for the entire summer, you’re in the right place.
This is not the “perfect tomato” guide.
This is the “you’re still allowed to eat tomatoes even if you’re a chaotic mess” guide.
Let’s get real. You’re going to lose interest halfway. You’re going to forget to water. You might even let weeds win for a little while.
But guess what? Tomatoes are scrappy little things. If you set them up right initially, they’ll hang in there long enough for you to come crawling back with a watering can.
Here’s how to grow juicy, edible tomatoes even if you’re a quitter.
Step 1: Pick the Right Tomatoes (For Lazy Humans)
All tomatoes are not created equal.
If you’re likely to check out mentally mid-season, cherry tomatoes are your new best friend.
Why Cherry Tomatoes Are Superior:
- Faster to ripen.
- Produce constantly.
- Tolerating a little abuse.
- Don’t need to be perfectly pruned.
Best Varieties for Quitters:
- Sungold: sweet, tropical-flavored little sun bombs.
- Sweet 100: ridiculously productive.
- Black Cherry: moody, rich-tasting beauties.
- Tiny Tim: perfect for pots if you have zero garden space.
What to Avoid:
- Massive heirloom tomatoes that take forever.
- Giant beefsteaks unless you’re feeling wildly ambitious.
Step 2: Cheat at Soil Prep
Tomatoes are like needy toddlers about their soil… at first.
You’ll give them a good start to coast later without constant attention.
Lazy Soil Setup:
- Pick the sunniest, brightest spot you have.
- Use a raised bed, giant pot, or a no-dig garden patch.
- Mix in compost or a slow-release organic fertilizer at planting time.
- Mulch heavily to lock in moisture (less watering for you).
Secret ingredient:
Throw crushed eggshells or a handful of bone meal into the planting hole. It helps prevent blossom end rot without you having to remember anything later.
Step 3: Plant Them Like You Mean It
Here’s the lazy tomato planting method:
- Dig a deep hole.
- Strip the lower leaves off your tomato plant.
- Bury it deeper than it was in the pot—stem and all.
Tomatoes grow roots all along their buried stems. Deeper = stronger = more resilient when you forget about them.
Bonus Tip:
Water the hole before you plant. It gives them a head start, even if you’re a terrible plant parent.
Step 4: Cage Early, Forget Later
If you wait to support your tomatoes until they fall over, you’ll hate everything.
Be proactive (lazy-style):
- Stick a tomato cage or stake in the same day you plant.
- Tie loosely with twine if needed.
Even if you never touch them again, the cages will do half the work for you.
Good Enough Gardening = Success.
Step 5: Water Deeply (Then Chill)
The number one mistake lazy gardeners make?
Shallow watering.
It’s like giving your tomato a thimble of water and expecting it to thrive.
Instead:
- Water deeply once or twice a week.
- Soak the soil until it’s saturated.
- Then walk away.
Pro tip: Mulch like a maniac. Straw, shredded leaves, wood chips — whatever you have. Mulch means you water less often without killing everything.
Self-Watering Hacks:
- Use ollas (buried clay pots) to slowly release water.
- Set up a drip hose on a timer.
Low effort, high reward.
Step 6: Accept That You Will Ignore Them (It’s Fine)
You will absolutely forget about your tomato plants for a while.
Maybe you’ll:
- Get busy with work.
- Go on vacation.
- Fall into a Netflix hole.
Guess what? Tomatoes are tougher than your schedule.
They’ll survive a little neglect.
Signs You Need to Check Back In:
- Leaves turning yellow? (Probably thirsty.)
- Fruit cracking? (Too much water at once, but still edible.)
- Wild jungle growth? (Please make sure to tie it up if you can. If not, let it sprawl.)
Your tomatoes aren’t judging you. Neither am I.
Step 7: Harvest Like a Chaotic Good Villain
You do NOT have to pick tomatoes at the “perfect” moment.
They’re good enough if they’re mostly red (or whatever color they’re supposed to be).
- Could you grab them when you remember?
- Eat them warm from the vine if you want.
- You can freeze extra ones whole if you can’t deal with them right now.
(Yes, you can toss whole tomatoes in a freezer bag. I’d appreciate it if you could deal with it later.)
Tip: If you see a blush of color but a storm’s coming, pick them and let them ripen on the counter.
Step 8: Celebrate the Imperfect Harvest
Some of your tomatoes will be weird-looking.
Some will be cracked, ugly, or half-eaten by bugs.
They are still delicious.
Cut off the bad parts. Roast, sauce, salsa, or shove them into your mouth standing barefoot in the yard.
Gardening isn’t about perfection. It’s about showing up at all.
You planted a thing. It grew. You win.
Bonus Section: If You REALLY Want to Quit (Here’s How to Fake It)
If you get halfway through the season and you’re completely over it, here’s how to “ghost” your tomato plants without total destruction:
- Mulch more: A deep layer of straw or shredded leaves buys you weeks without watering.
- Self-watering planters: Fill the reservoirs once a week and ignore them.
- Prune chaos: Snap off anything brown or wild-looking to reduce disease risk.
- Harvest what you can: Even tiny tomatoes are worth it.
- Cut your losses: Some plants will die. Accept it with grace.
And if you want to do absolutely nothing?
Let them sprawl. Let them live their feral tomato life.
You might still get fruit, and that’s magical.
Real-Life Story: My Feral Tomato Plant
One summer, I abandoned a cherry tomato seedling behind the garage.
Zero water. No staking. No love.
It grew into a sprawling monster across the gravel, produced buckets of tiny, sweet tomatoes, and survived until October.
All it had was rain, sun, and pure spite.
Moral of the story:
Even if you half-quit, your tomatoes might refuse to quit on you.
Final Thoughts: Grow Like a Quitter (and Still Win)
You don’t have to be a perfect gardener.
You don’t have to monitor pH levels, prune daily, or hand-pollinate flowers at dawn.
You have to give your tomatoes a decent start, a little water now and then, and a few half-hearted attempts at caring.
They’ll do the rest.
And when you’re standing there in late summer, eating a sun-warmed tomato straight from the vine with juice running down your chin, you’ll know:
You didn’t fail. You gardened.
And that’s enough.