A Dampened Day Off

It's raining -- and has been off and on since Sunday.  Thunder and lightening animated the night.  Steady drops have punctuated the morning.  Two inches since last evening. 

For more reasons than one, I am grateful.  In between showers yesterday we planted flower seedlings in the front bed, added more tomato seedlings to the garden,  replanted many of the brassicas that had been nibbled down to the dirt by unseen predators, and replanted several of the tomato plants that had been wholly uprooted by some scavenger hungry for the granulated molasses we had added to the fertilizer to help with the brix count.  To further sweeten the season we planted a few melon seeds, and of course weeded. 

As to that latter, we have only just begun.  We have made our way through less than half of the rows, and once that has been completed it will of course simply be time to begin again.  As to the former, we are grateful that the greenhouse still offered flats of leftovers from our winter seeding project that hadn't found room in the garden during the first round of planting.  We still have hopes for 20-30 of the remaining tomato plants, but something like 130 now have a garden home. 

There are odds and ends that still need attention.  Helpers next week will tie the tomato plants to supporting frames and will continue with the weeding.  Maybe they will help get sunflower seeds planted.  Certainly they will also help reconnoiter the perimeter to seal breaches in the fortifications.  I plan for them to replace a few worn out drip tapes in the irrigation system even while extending to a few additional rows.

But today it is raining and the irrigation is taking care of itself.  The plants are getting a healthy drink, the rain barrels are getting refilled, the chickens are staying dry while relaxing in their run, and I am taking a deep breath.  This is one of the crunch times in the garden that doesn't allow much opportunity for breathing.  If the primary work doesn't get done now it doesn't get done at all.  There are only so many days in the growing season in the upper midwest, and I can't afford to squander very many.  The plants need time to stretch their roots and spread their leaves not simply to produce good fruit but to grow as sturdy as possible before the onslaught of hungry pestilences both crawling and flying. 

It has taken awhile, but I have finally realized that vegetables are a lot like friends:  when you need them, it's too late to make them. 

It's with some sense of shame that I confess how poorly I act on that truth with my friends.  I'm trying to do better with the vegetables.  There is work to be done.  In the meantime, today I will enjoy the rain, the deep breath, and a good book.

And get back to the weeding tomorrow.