Monday 30 April 2007

allotment as palimpsest


Thinking of the allotment as palimpsest – the fractions of stories it tells me leading to musings I have about it. Also the stories I bring to it and not only mine but those of all the invited as well as bird/animal/insect visitors that abide in it permanently, visit occasionally or travel over it but once.
Sandy is now feeling at home here, settling down to watch me work and doze in alternating patches of sunshine and shade that he moves in and out of according to his bodily thermostat. I’m sitting with my back to the shed, in the shade (Sandy prostrate next to me, head in the sun, haunches in the shade) looking at my now one-hand-span tall broad bean plants and emerging early potatoes which I could do to be earthing-up. Gently bending and swaying over these in the breeze are blackcurrant bushes full of flowers now turning to tiny green fruit already. 2 planes are making a kiss in the sky overhead for only a moment and then fading. The smell of earth, coffee and someone’s stew mingling with (probably the same person’s) lilac. I’m finding myself digging around 2 teazles, self-sown, in my salad and herb-bed-to-be, remembering Jeni and someone else I can’t remember telling me to encourage teazles. I later decided to ask why and was told ‘they attract bees’, they certainly do I discovered last summer.
There are a number of jobs requiring attention but I am as usual obsessed with a desire to finish digging the bed I’m 2/3 way through. I’ll work until my back aches then do another task for a while such as watering strawberries under cloches, turning compost or earthing-up the aforementioned potatoes in case of - unimaginable on a day like today but nevertheless not unlikely - frost.