Any notion I had of the allotment being a peaceful retreat from daily life was rudely dismissed this morning when the "neighbor" fired up his gas lawnmower. And his neighbor fired up a rototiller. And another brought his dogs. And several more brought children. And instead of a quiet morning with me and the land, it was a cacophony of noise and activity. Until about 11am.
Then everyone left, leaving me alone with a few birds and a lot of worms. (Actually, a few worms less when I left, as the birds cannily watched me turning the earth.) The sun was hidden behind thin clouds, there was a light breeze, and it was beautiful.
Last week I bought a tray of vegetable seedlings. I'm not sure what I was thinking; the allotment wasn't ready, and I didn't have any time. Nevertheless, after carrying them around in the trunk of my car, I needed to get them in the ground, and so I spent almost the entire day at the allotment. I got the peas and carrots planted. I had to come back the next day to plant the beetroot and spring onions. I still need to plant the pak choi and lettuce.
Like most things in my life, when I applied for the allotment, I didn't think about why I wanted it, or what I would do with it. I applied because it was a new experience, and seemed like a quintessentially English thing to do. Plus, I didn't think I'd get it for years.
I expected it to be a lot of work; I expected it to be enjoyable and satisfying; I expected it to be be a good excuse to get out of the house. What I didn't expect was that I'd feel a sense of belonging. Or responsibility. I was now responsible for this little plot of land, these little plants, their tiny head poking above the soil. I apologised as I planted each one in the dry, rocky soil. (I also sang "Beat it" as I planted the beets, but I'm not proud of that.)
Granted, I only have 1/40th of an acre, but that's still about six times larger than my previous best effort. I'm already imagining what I'm going to do with 50 beets, and 100 carrots. I don't even like beets.
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3 comments:
Please explain these allotments! Sounds totally rad and at the same time quite stressful. I am picturing you on a hill somewhere, pounding the dry dirt with a shovel...
Think 'kibbutz' without the communal bit. It has been so dry in London for two months -- something like only 10% of normal rainfall -- that I now have to hand water the veggies every day. I missed one day and the tomatoes, peppers, and squashes all died. :-(
Oh, no! Well, that's quite sad. Are you getting any heroic-looking mutant-sized veggies? It sounds like maybe you had enough to do already with the house, without having to attend to a separate garden. Mother Earth must be pressuring you somehow...
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