With autumn, comes an allotment
The Gods of Horticulture in tandem with Saint Fiacre, have come good. One has a patch of hobbitland to call one’s own. About a week ago, I got that call from the allotment secretary. The half plot was mine, if I still wanted it.
And I did!
Eight by eleven metres, the half plot was over run. Not nearly as bad however, as the other plots that I had a choice from. There were two others, where the weeds were twice my height. Perhaps not then, the best to tackle. My plot, is the last but one. And at half the expected price due to just how neglected it was. I was fortunate, in that the ‘llotment secretary was one of the previous owners, and had also sprayed weedkiller that created a carpet of dead grass. Beneath it, the soil is clay. In the first half an hour that I was there, there were a few folks who did that sharp inhalation of breath usually associated with car mechanics. What ensued, was me digging up my log book and Ma saying she wanted the whole the thing. Not on my nelly. The spat lasted the whole weekend, and was not particularly amusing. But I had the key, the ‘lottment rules and time.
Only today, have I found out the aspect. There are many who would feel that is useful. Standing at the front corner. I was standing 158 degree south. North was on my left shoulder, South diagonally opposite. To the more hard core, that makes perfect sense.
There is a plan. I have had it for what it feels an age.
It is not set in stone, very few ever are. So this may well change. What I will have to do, is make sure that the soil is made lighter. There are plans afoot to form a leaf mold and also to have a compost bin. I did toy with the idea of a wormery, but then I took a look at the cost. That and I spent most of today apologising to every wiggly woo that chanced upon whilst digging. They are after al the good guys, to whom it pays to be nice.
At the moment, I am trying to pace myself. Being only too aware, that whilst this requires hard work, in the long run there will be dividends. It will be all to easy to pelt at the plot, when like all good things it is nice to have a process. I was very encouraged to see that there were butternuts on the plots. Poor Gladys was our summer drama queen. Seeing the cropped product made me feel that much better. That butternuts can be grown, and in hobbit land. There are also pumpkins, a lot like Bruno the ghost rider. I must have been doing something right at home.
Allotments in themselves, are a community. Seeing different people come and go, is really quite nice. And here I am, starting out.