produce
For reasons I don't fully understand, Matt's parents have a surfeit of B&Q vouchers, so they've bought us a new shed for Christmas. We collected it on Sunday (flat-packed) and it's now stored snugly in the greenhouse until we get around to levelling the patch of plot that we've decided will be the New Shed site. This is very exciting.
We hoped to be able to put the shed up on the day we got it, but we totally underestimated how much work it'd take to clear the New Shed site and, after five hours of back-breaking effort on Saturday, Matt had managed to move the compost bins two feet to the left (and shifted the same ton of compost three times), and I'd managed to clear away all the dead vegetable plants that were lying around all over the place. I even cleared the tomato plants out of the greenhouse, which is a job I normally leave until April (not advised). But the ground still has to be levelled, alas.
I haven't been up to the allotment much at all in recent weeks --a combination of bad weather, busy-ness, depression and laziness. But my enthusiasm has returned in full force now. There are still things to harvest up there! Even now, in the middle of November! I gathered Swiss chard (which we ate in a curry on Sunday night), broccoli (and I cannot believe the plants are STILL producing), the last teeny-tiny half-ripe tomatoes, a surprise!potato that Matt found growing in the compost heap (also eaten in the curry), and the last two small bunches of grapes (which I de-seeded, macerated in Sauternes, and served with apricot yoghurt after the curry. NOTE TO SELF: REALLY DELICIOUS; REMEMBER TO DO THIS WITH NEXT YEAR'S GRAPES!)
And there are things that are not quite ready to harvest yet.
The lumps you can see sprouting (clue!) off the stem are going to be little red Brussels sprouts, just in time for Christmas. I'm hoping I'll suddenly discover that I like the taste, if I disguise it enough with chestnuts or bacon...
After the various disasters we had with the squash family (not germinating; germinating but getting eaten by slugs; germinating but barely growing at all; germinating and flowering but not fruiting; germinating, flowering AND fruiting but the fruit getting eaten by woodlice), one solitary pumpkin was strong enough to make it to the finish line. Here she is, ripening on the shelf in the greenhouse.
She's as big as my head! We'll have to make something incredibly special to celebrate all the effort and heartache that went into producing this one pumpkin. Something better than a mere soup. I shall cogitate.
Also, against all expectations, there are still flowers trying to bloom. One sunflower plant has refused to die, and has in fact burst forth with buds and tiny yellow flowers. The poached egg plants show no signs of stopping. And, although the beautiful blue borage has succumbed to the cold, another mystery blue flower has popped up in its place.
I have no idea what this is, but isn't it lovely? It's little surprises like this that keep me so entertained at the allotment. The digging and weeding and pruning and lifting and clearing and all that mostly doesn't even feel like work, once you're doing it, because there are so many beguiling things to see and smell. What could be less like work than pruning herbs? All that scent wafting around you, and a pleasing sense of accomplishment, for very little effort.
The head of the Allotment Association was up there on Saturday, and he reminded us that it was time to pay our dues for the next year. We all agreed that it was definitely worth £25. Bargain!
We hoped to be able to put the shed up on the day we got it, but we totally underestimated how much work it'd take to clear the New Shed site and, after five hours of back-breaking effort on Saturday, Matt had managed to move the compost bins two feet to the left (and shifted the same ton of compost three times), and I'd managed to clear away all the dead vegetable plants that were lying around all over the place. I even cleared the tomato plants out of the greenhouse, which is a job I normally leave until April (not advised). But the ground still has to be levelled, alas.
I haven't been up to the allotment much at all in recent weeks --a combination of bad weather, busy-ness, depression and laziness. But my enthusiasm has returned in full force now. There are still things to harvest up there! Even now, in the middle of November! I gathered Swiss chard (which we ate in a curry on Sunday night), broccoli (and I cannot believe the plants are STILL producing), the last teeny-tiny half-ripe tomatoes, a surprise!potato that Matt found growing in the compost heap (also eaten in the curry), and the last two small bunches of grapes (which I de-seeded, macerated in Sauternes, and served with apricot yoghurt after the curry. NOTE TO SELF: REALLY DELICIOUS; REMEMBER TO DO THIS WITH NEXT YEAR'S GRAPES!)
And there are things that are not quite ready to harvest yet.
The lumps you can see sprouting (clue!) off the stem are going to be little red Brussels sprouts, just in time for Christmas. I'm hoping I'll suddenly discover that I like the taste, if I disguise it enough with chestnuts or bacon...
After the various disasters we had with the squash family (not germinating; germinating but getting eaten by slugs; germinating but barely growing at all; germinating and flowering but not fruiting; germinating, flowering AND fruiting but the fruit getting eaten by woodlice), one solitary pumpkin was strong enough to make it to the finish line. Here she is, ripening on the shelf in the greenhouse.
She's as big as my head! We'll have to make something incredibly special to celebrate all the effort and heartache that went into producing this one pumpkin. Something better than a mere soup. I shall cogitate.
Also, against all expectations, there are still flowers trying to bloom. One sunflower plant has refused to die, and has in fact burst forth with buds and tiny yellow flowers. The poached egg plants show no signs of stopping. And, although the beautiful blue borage has succumbed to the cold, another mystery blue flower has popped up in its place.
I have no idea what this is, but isn't it lovely? It's little surprises like this that keep me so entertained at the allotment. The digging and weeding and pruning and lifting and clearing and all that mostly doesn't even feel like work, once you're doing it, because there are so many beguiling things to see and smell. What could be less like work than pruning herbs? All that scent wafting around you, and a pleasing sense of accomplishment, for very little effort.
The head of the Allotment Association was up there on Saturday, and he reminded us that it was time to pay our dues for the next year. We all agreed that it was definitely worth £25. Bargain!