Back last summer, Mr T and I found ourselves with..drum roll please..an allotment.
Yeah for some of you that is not anything to be excited about and if I’m honest I had mostly forgotten that we had put our names down on the waiting list.
Five years ago.
So long that we had put that request right to back of our brains.
When the message came through that one had come up and our names were now top of the list, with some trepidation we found ourselves at the allotment site for a look around and to see the plots on offer.
The place itself is vast and has a really laid back, peaceful feeling to it.
Our plot was nothing like any of the ones in the above photo.
It was basically lots of mounds of soil, accumulated over the five years that the plot had been left unattended.
The one thing alive was a damson tree or maybe it’s a plum-tree.
Some fellow allotmentees commented on it, telling us how lucky we are to have damson tree. Others have said “what a lovely plum-tree” so we remain confused as to what it is but nod politely as though we know everything there is to know about damson/plum trees.
The only damson I had ever heard of was one in distress but now I know they are also a fruit.
The down side of inheriting a plot that hadn’t been used for a long time was the weeds.
So, so many weeds and dead plants.
And really long grass.
We couldn’t really make out what one plant had been from another and the size of the plot was unclear.
Looking back, what were we thinking!?
After a few attempts at hacking away we had an impressive pile of weeds, grass and dead plants and not much else.
We sought advise from people who like gardening, and as instructed covered the whole thing with weed killer and then black plastic sheeting to help everything die.
Not very nice of us really but the thing to do, so we were told.
And now starts the long, back-breaking work of taking back the sheeting and digging up the dead weeds.
We’ve had a couple of trips recently to do this and it’s taking blinkin’ ages.
We work for a couple of hours sometime stopping for a drink (I am of course laden up with snacks and drinks each visit) and then survey the land, only to discover that we’ve tackled the size of postage stamp.
My patience is wearing thin.
I just want to grow things. Of course what this means is that I want things to eat.
The growing part as I’ve mentioned before is really Mr T’s domain.
He likes to grow the food and I like to eat it.
There is still a long way to go before we become real living breathing good life people, but maybe we will get there one day.