The Rain and, Perchance, a Nap

Gamed called on account of rain.
The garden game, that is.  I had a day otherwise planned.  Much of the planting has been accomplished, thanks in large part to the clergy group that convenes here once a month for a day long retreat spent elbow-deep in the metaphorical synergies of gardening, earth care and ministry.  Two months ago they helped create the soil blocks in which the early seeds germinated in the greenhouse.  Last week they moved many of those seedlings out from their sheltered environment and into the garden soil, planted potatoes and several varieties of seeds, prepared more soil, and fertilized.  Since then I have planted the remainder of the seeds, added a few rows, and just yesterday reassembled the irrigation system -- miles of feeder lines and drip tapes attached to a true "Rube Goldberg" hose-splitting contraption that brings it all to life.  It isn't completed.  With this year's various expansions I have ordered some additional parts required to connect every furrow, but it is essentially in place.

What remains are all the tomato plants, onions and peppers still nestled in greenhouse limbo, and then figuring out what I'm going to do with the hundreds of leftover brassicas for which I clearly, sadly, have no room.

My intent today had been to prepare the receiving spaces for the tomatoes.  With over 100 seedlings to plant, it's a sizable undertaking -- which is fine.  We are, after all, talking about tomatoes -- this year some 14 different varieties, mostly heirlooms, many of which are new to me:
Fargo Yellow Pear
Dakota Sport
Cherokee Purple
Amish Paste
Green Zebra
True Black Brandywine
Blue Berry
Kellogs Breakfast
Black Krim
Speckled Roman
Brandywine Suduth's Strain
Mexico Midget
Blondkopfchen
Black Plum

Those, plus a few Green Husk Tomatillos.

It's hard to have too many tomatoes.

At present they are all standing tall in their 32-ounce convenience store soda cups into which they were moved for further root development when they outgrew their soil blocks.  They have spent some hours in recent days soaking up the sun just outside the greenhouse, hardening off, but I can tell they are anxious to move into the home they have never known; settling in and reaching deeply into the soil.  The tomatoes, but also their spicier counterparts still languishing alongside them on the shelves.

But it's raining -- and supposedly will be all day.  A half-inch already since it started sometime before dawn.  We could see another inch by sunset if the predictions are on track.  I don't really mind.  The rain barrels need topping off, and the trees are almost certainly thirsty.  The garden, in general, can use a good and deep drink, and the flowers certainly aren't complaining.  Neither do the chickens seem inconvenienced, harvesting as they are a bumper crop of worms.  For my part, however, I think I'll make other, drier plans for the day -- some reading, perhaps, long-neglected, or whittling down the mountainous piles crowding my office.

Or maybe, if I'm not careful, a nap.
Hmmm.  Maybe the rain will continue tomorrow as well.