Sunday 30 September 2007

rained off

Saturday 29th September - midday

It’s drizzly today, not ideal allotment weather. I’ve climbed into the damson tree and sawed off two big branches – exhausting work, holding on with one hand and sawing with the other. I’ll finish the job another day when I have the right saw, a stepladder and assistance!

I had a friend here yesterday – we harvested, cooked and ate a two-course meal whilst conducting a conversation about our mutual concerns. I recorded this conversation on my laptop and it will, I hope, be the first of many interactions of this kind towards my research project.

Another friend, who was going to call here today for coffee, has seen the rain and called on my mobile to invite me for lunch instead.

Saturday 22 September 2007

wildlife encounters





I’ve just watched a pair of ‘cabbage white’ butterflies mate on a raspberry leaf. One flattened itself out and projected its tail into the air while the other hovered above making contact a few times then flying away. The (presumably) female one then gathered herself and fluttered off over my head, greeny-white against the sky.

I brought with me today a dustbin full of compostable material. When I lifted off the cover from the compost a mouse scurried away. I do love these wildlife encounters.

There are pinky-mauve daisies in flower with a whole host of bees on them. One of my more eccentric friends worries about mobile phone radiation disturbing the flight-path of bees, he tells me that Einstein said ‘when the bees die, we die’, he obviously has little to worry about here!

Sitting in my shed for a moment, ‘Tiny’ came in to explore.

Wednesday 12 September 2007

Absent-minded pondering

I do seem to be becoming absent-minded - just started pouring boiling water into an empty coffee filter then heard myself self-reprimanding out loud. I know I talk to myself quite a bit these days, often when I'm walking in the park where having the dog with me provides an excuse, or at least I like to think it does.

I have a resistance to anyone telling me how to contemplate or meditate. I used to put my resistance down to my mother, a yoga teacher, trying to make me 'salute the sun' in a morning when I was a teenager. In fact I think it's more to do with knowing or having known at a very young age, inherently, how to do these things without someone else's instruction but it having slipped out of focus. I was alone a lot as a child and lived pretty much in my own world of daydreams. I used to make things, dens and shelters, intimate environments in which to practice the art of daydreaming.

As I’m sitting here quietly I’ve been joined by what I now see to be a female blackbird that is rustling about in the peas in front of me. So, this is the visitor who’s been emptying some of my pea pods. It’s gratifying to think that I’m providing a meal for others as well as myself.

I’ve lopped several big branches off one of my elders to encourage it to grow closer to the ground so I can reach its flowers and fruit. I broke up the branches and twigs and added them to the pile that I have created as a small wildlife shelter.

It’s now overcast and a proliferation of midges have appeared so I’m beating a hasty retreat!

Sunday 9 September 2007

if in doubt ... make compost




I wasn’t sure what I was going to do here today but since I’ve brought with me a backlog of compostable kitchen waste and activator from home I decided to investigate my compost bins. To my delight I discovered perfectly rotted compost, enough to fill seven bags.

Now I realise why gardeners write about sieving compost – I‘ve found a variety of objects that have survived the alchemical process including sticks, elastic bands, mango and avocado pips, bottle lids and plastic labels, but the rest is brown and crumbly as described in the aforementioned gardening books.

Jam therapy




Saturday 8th September

6pm - I’m coming back down to earth gradually. Picking fruit (plums, damsons, elderberries and autumn raspberries) and making jam for the first time, has helped. Also eating peas and rocket straight from the plant. It’s a glorious evening, golden light after an overcast day. However, this time of day at this time of year the gnats make their presence felt so I’m heading for home.

Absence

August 27th Bank Holiday Monday

Gorgeous sunny day, I’d expected many fellow allotmenteers but I seem to be alone which suits me well today.

An indication of the state of my allotment is that I’ve just discovered bindweed winding its way around a chilli pepper plant INSIDE my shed. The miracle is that my seedlings are still alive despite no watering for a fortnight, the result of so little sunshine this summer since the hot and early Spring.

The thought of all there is to do makes me tired – I’ve definitely lost the plot this summer, it has run away from me, become a free agent. However it does present me with the possibility of not exactly a blank canvas but a fresh start since my sowings for winter haven’t materialised.

My heart has been elsewhere – firstly because of the unexpected, yet joyous, re-opening of doors for us as a family in Cornwall and then the opposite, the tragic death of two of our dearest friends also in Cornwall. For these reasons we have spent most of the summer there resulting in the neglect of my allotment.

Such sadness… the allotment epitomises it all, things dying down now at the end of the summer and so much to deal with. Yet beyond that, somewhere, the hope of new beginnings springing from the old, but I feel it could be a long cold winter.

Show prep

Tuesday 31st July

Bakewell Show tomorrow so I’ve come to collect possible exhibits. I’m not expecting or wanting prizes but I am enjoying the thought of allowing my collaborative partner (the allotment) the opportunity to show off. I’ve brought the list of categories to see what could fit the bill. I thought I may have beetroot but they seem to have either not developed or rotted in the ground. My peas may not be quite mature enough but I may enter them anyway as they have novelty blue pods, perhaps today’s sunshine could be what they need and I could harvest them at dawn tomorrow for the 7.15 deadline.

On my return

Saturday 28th July

I’ve been away for two weeks, just harvested peas, broad beans, onions, garlic, rocket and blackcurrants. Last year I daren’t leave it, this year I needed a break and whilst away the allotment blurred out of focus, no watering anxieties – the heavens have taken care of that this year.