In the last week, the allotment has gradually returned to life. Buds are starting to swell and the warm air is hustling in the awakening process. The soil is still very cold though and, even though it is drying nicely, I’m going to leave seed sowing for another few weeks. George doesn’t share that view, however. First of March and first planting for him. Well, when I write ‘first planting’, I really mean all the planting.
Potatoes, broad beans, peas, beetroot, onions lined by theodolyte and regimented into the compliant earth. And for the rest of the season, George sits watchfully over the plot eliminating any weed which dares to raise a shoot and tending his productive and ordered garden. No doubt, he occasionally mutters at the chaos ( I call it creative productivity…) which reigns in my plot across the way. But then he doesn’t have long to fret because by August, his bounty is all harvested and stored and the plot reverts to turned, bare earth.
It takes all sorts and I’m certainly not suggesting that he’s wrong in any way. It works for him and he gets good crops, it’s just he sets the bar at a place most of us can’t see let alone reach.
Meanwhile, I’m unsystematically tidying and enjoying the early spring which is moving at pace. I missed the bud break of the rhubarb, which is pretty enough to justify growing rhubarb even if you don’t like the crop. The first stems are up and off and will be covered in old steel buckets to force the sweet pink stems. Roasted and served with cream, it beats even the best crumbles which will follow.
Meanwhile, the pigeons have had their first crop of the year! I missed the net which had come free in the weekend gale and they got in as can be seen below. A row of early cabbages which will probably now be mid-season greens. My neighbour re-set the net for me after releasing a trapped pigeon. I was grateful for the net-fixing, but might have been a bit less kind with the cushy doo.
Luckily, they missed the cauliflowers which had just produced perfectly edible heads, more like sprouting broccoli than standard curds. Which is ironic, because I thought I’d planted sprouting broccoli but must have mislabeled the pot. The sprouts will be cooked with shallots, cumin and fenugreek and then pureed with some coriander leaf as a kind of sauce to go with tandoori chicken tonight. Cool and earthy to contrast with the spicy chicken.
My ending musing is on the calendulas which have flowered happily all winter.
They evidence of the absence of winter frosts and have self-set across the plot. I like the splashes of colour they provide and will only hoe them up if they really do get in the way of something important. Random dots of orange and black break up the rows of vegetable in a way which pleases me. Although I suspect George wouldn’t agree.
growingandreflecting 