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Rhubarb!

6 January 2013, Midwinter, 7 deg. C, Damp.

Aches and Pains

The day started off very damp and foggy. All our tools are still in the car from yesterday, so we can just get in and go, but our bodies seem to have grown new, painful muscles were none were previously. Slightly slower than anticipated then, we make it to the allotment. Very few others seem to be about.

Sledgehammer Blues

I set off with the axe, lopping off the rotten ends and putting new points on  the posts that I have salvaged from the muck bays yesterday. I start making new holes for the posts, but then discover that I did not bring my sledgehammer along. While I waste my time trying to get the first post in, a fellow allotmenteer, Tony, comes walking up. We have a bit of a chat and and he mentions that he is clearing a new allotment and have dug up loads of rhubarb corms, and would we like a few? Rhubarb is Eli's second most favourite thing, so I confidently answer in the affirmative. He also enquires as to whether I might have some use for his sledgehammer, to which I gladly answer in the affirmative again. No sooner have I said it or he walks off to go fetch it! 10 Minutes later and he's back with six good looking Rhubarb corms and a sledgehammer. We thank him and he leaves us to get on with it.

With the right tools for the job, the job goes much quicker. Eli also found some nails in the shed, which I use to nail the corrugated sheeting to the posts. Job done!

The Sheds

While I was doing the muck bays, Eli set about sorting the sheds. In doing so she unearths various useful bits and pieces, some tools and lots of usable fleece and netting. One shed has some issues with damp, probably due to a non-existent down-pipe, while the other is dry and windproof. Both their doors are wonky and need attention, especially if we want to be able to lock stuff into the sheds. That's another day's project. Eli has also filled 5 bin-bags with what can only be described as 'crap'. That goes to the dump.

Number 1 Shed, ready for inspection.

Number 2 Shed, needs some more work, but serviceable. Check out the coffee making arrangements.

Carrots

Eli brews up some coffee and while we are drinking it, I see what looks like the delicate leaf of a carrot a few yards off amongst the weeds. Closer inspection reveals the remains of a carrot bed! I dig the lot up and end up with a big handful of carrots that are untouched by slugs or wireworms. That's for dinner, thank you.

Look at those beauties!

Finally, I dig some holes for the rhubarb corms, pop them in, and firm up. Job done.

They don't look like much, but give them a chance!

It's past three in the afternoon, drizzly and the light is fading. There is a special kind of satisfaction when one builds something with one's own hands, even if it won't win prizes for grace or beauty. There is another, very special, satisfaction to be had from working with soil. Getting personal with mother nature. Today I have experienced both, but I want to get home to where beers and a warm bath awaits.

5 January 2013

5 January 2013 - Midwinter, 6 deg. C

First Sight

After spending 2 years on a waiting list, we were finally informed of an available allotment just before Christmas. What a Christmas present!

We had a quick peek last week to see whether it was at all viable. It was. So today is our official take-on day. For the princely sum of £20 per year we are now renting 1/8 of an acre of prime Cambridgeshire soil.

We met the guvnor, Mr Teal and 10:00 and walked with him to our plot, before he took us around to have a look at his. He has several, some dedicated to vegetable growing and others dedicated purely to flowers. He clearly likes to discuss all things allotment, but we eventually managed to tear ourselves away.

Taking Stock

The allotment was in production last summer, until the previous owner unexpectedly passed away. What we are seeing is a lot of potential:
Two sheds in some disrepair but salvageable.
A greenhouse missing half its glass.
6 Months of weather beaten neglect.
Poorly maintained and inadequate compost bays.
Weeds. Lots of weeds.
Rusting shit, broken pots and pieces of of plastic everywhere
But the soil! Well cultivated, rich sandy loam with few stones. Perfect!

If you look closely, you can see paradise.

Closer inspection also reveals a working, and full, water butt. Not that we need the water now, but hey. Also a functional net cage, some transparent plastic floating mulch, a large piece of weed suppressant black plastic, various pieces of weed suppressant carpet, 44gal drums half full of useless crap, a few soft fruit bushes, possibly raspberries.

Eli by a 'shed' amongst knee-high couch grass

What's left of the greenhouse.

First Jobs

We need to get rid of all the dead weeds, cut down the couch grass and generally clean up the accumulated crap. We'll keep what might come in handy, but there is also a whole lot of stuff that should go straight to the dump.

We meet our next door neighbours, Harvey and Lorraine, a young couple who seem to know their stuff. Their veg are still looking good and yielding at this time of the year and Harvey doesn't seem to be afraid of a spade.

While we are busy tidying our friends John and Lou come around to say hello and have a look. Eli brews up some coffee on our little camping stove. They present us with an 'allotment warming' present of John's home-brewed sloe gin. Nice!

Class!

Eli fires up her favourite piece of machinery, the strimmer, and gets righteous on anything grass-like.

Fortified, I decide to make a start on the compost bays. It is critical that we get compost onto the soil as early as possible, to give it time to be assimilated and to mellow before the springtime planting season. Well rotted, year-old stable manure can be delivered within a week or two, but the existing compost bays are too small and overgrown with weeds. In short, not fit for purpose. My job is to clear them of weeds, consolidate them all into one heap and enlarge the newly cleared space into something big enough to accept 2 tons of horse manure. I could tell you about the 'stuff' one finds while digging someone else's compost heap, but I won't. It's mine now and cleaned up.

3 O'Clock

A cold south-westerly is picking up, we're aching and it's getting dark. Time to head home.

A detour to Waitrose sees us arriving home with a bottle of champagne and a shoulder of lamb, shortly to go into the oven at 140 for 4 hours, doused in red wine, chopped onions, garlic, marjoram, thyme, rosemary and pepper. One needs to know how to live, after all.