Allotment: Weather & Wildlife Woes

Don’t get me wrong.  I love my allotment, I really do but just at the minute it feels like I might as well be banging my head against a brick wall.  It’d certainly be less frustrating!  I’ve been working hard on my plot for the last year, battling against waist-high weeds to try to carve out something even vaguely resembling a productive patch of ground.  Until relatively recently, I had felt as if I was getting somewhere; I’d had much of my patch under thick black plastic for months on end, I’d manured a couple of areas last winter ready for planting in spring.  Over winter, when anyone possessed of their sanity was keeping warm indoors, I was trogging up to the plot and digging over as much of the ground as possible, removing the roots of perennial weeds feet long, and picking out what seemed like a quarry-full of stones, setting them aside for use around the shed.  I ordered seeds, three blueberry bushes which overwintered in the shed, and dreamed and waited for spring.  And waited.  And waited …

Spring never really arrived.  It seemed that one of the worst winters I can remember surrendered abruptly to the advent of summer.  And what a summer – it looks set to rival 1976!  Our allotments, you may recall, have no running water and we are entirely reliant on what we collect from our shed rooves into water butts.  My water butts were full but, with no rain to speak of in over two months, they’ve run almost dry.  In desperation I ordered four 10-litre jerry cans.  Now I wish I’d ordered twice that.  Today I made two trips to the allotment, each with the jerry cans and half a dozen 2-litre milk containers saved for the purpose – 104 litres in total – in an effort to top up at least one of the five water butts.

Jerry cans at the ready!
Everything’s stunted, including these broadbeans.

At this point I’d like to stress that I’m not filling these straight from the tap but have pressganged Mr P into joining me in putting the plug in the bath when we have showers, and saving the washing up water.  Doing this makes you acutely aware of how much water you use in the space of just one day, and much more careful not to waste any – I’ve found I can wash my hands perfectly well with just a trickle!  However, as regards the allotment, with the best will in the world all this dry, hot weather is taking its toll.  Basically, things are refusing to grow, and any produce I might have expected or hoped for is puny to say the least.

Hope the voles don’t notice these swedes coming though!

Raspberries are tiny but very raspberry-ish.  Broadbeans are stunted so are producing very little though, again, what they are giving me is very tasty.

Voles leave these tell-tale signs – the little buggers!

On top of all this, I’m having a god-awful time with voles.  The sodding things are tunnelling their way through every  bed, chomping on seeds and seedlings as they go, leaving holes everywhere.  Moles are burrowing underneath and disturbing my planting, and my broadbeans are afflicted with blackfly.  Like I said, banging my head against a brick wall!  The old chap on the allotment in front of mine says he’s been doing this allotment lark for fifty years and can’t remember a worse year for growing produce.  God only knows how farmers are managing.  Mr P and I ran into one of the village farmers the other evening in the pub and got a bit of the lowdown.  Grass isn’t growing and is so dry there’s little nutrition in it so livestock are having fodder taken out to them.  Water pressure is lower than usual and troughs located uphill from the farms aren’t filling so farmers are having to take water out to them.  What’s happening on arable farms and with vegetable producers I can’t imagine; apparently lettuce stops growing above 30-degrees centigrade.  I think we should all prepare for having to cough up more for fruit and veg over the coming months.

Blackfly have destroyed this broadbean plant.
Slim pickings but better than nothing!

Basically, I’m feeling frustrated, and a bit pissed off to be frank.  I’m caught in a gardening Bermuda Triangle of worries relating to weather and wildlife.  It would be easy to give up and hand over the allotment to someone on the waiting list.

But it’s still a beautiful place to be, it’s still the place that keeps me sane, and besides, I’m not a quitter.  To paraphrase Scarlett O’Hara, 2019 is another year!

Allotment Worries And Woes: A Sense of Inadequacy

My website is connected to Twitter and Facebook.  These days I don’t use Facebook as much as I once did, not necessarily because of the Cambridge Analytica data scandal (though that is a concern), but because Twitter has suddenly grabbed my attention.  In part this is because it’s awash with shepherds, farmers, gardeners, and allotmenteers all tweeting away with useful hints and tips, not to mention cute pictures of lambs.  It’s also because I’m somewhat obsessed with anything to do with rural life and am somehow living vicariously through other people’s seemingly wonderful lives – even though I know that it’s all bloody hard work.  Yes, rural life is more about feeding the soul than the bank account, this I know.

Lambs having fun getting into the hay feeder.

There’s a fly in the Twitter firmament though.  All these gardeners and allotmenteers, whose tweets and blogs I read, enjoy, and inwardly digest, are annoyingly good at it, far more organized than I am, much more experienced, and, quite frankly, I’m getting just a little bit pissed off.  Everyone’s wonderfully supportive and helpful but, even so, I’m starting to feel just a little bit inadequate! Don’t they ever have seeds which fail to germinate?  Don’t they ever buy completely the wrong tool for the job?  Or suffer attacks of the heebie-jeebies worrying if they’ll ever produce anything at all that’s even vaguely edible once they’ve cut out the manky bits?  Don’t they ever feel like, well, like a fake?  I definitely do.

All this is putting me very much in touch with a sense of my own inadequacy; what if I’m not up to the job and actually don’t produce any edible crops?  I don’t want to fail, who does?  However, to date my successes are few and far between.  When I took over my allotment, about a year ago, it was a beautiful, tangled mess of wildflowers and weeds.  There was no shed, no water; you couldn’t even really see where beds had been.

I do like an organized shed.

Now, there’s a brand spanking new shed, on a site I levelled myself, complete with shelves I put up myself (do yourself a favour – don’t buy metal shelving units from B&Q), hooks to hold my tools, and a kitchen unit/butchers’ block bought from a charity shop to act as storage/potting bench.  There’re blue plastic barrels bought for £2.50 from the local brickworks which act as water butts.

Blue plastic barrels. Cheap and cheerful.

I’ll admit I was grateful to Mr P for carrying them up the sloping site but I could’ve done the guttering and downpipe myself if he’d let me.  I connected the barrels together with a bit of plastic pipe … basically, I did pretty much everything myself.  I don’t want to eat chemicals so I’m clearing the site the hard way … by hand, digging out the most enormous perennial weeds – nettle, dock, couch grass, and dandelion.  It’s back-breaking work but strangely satisfying and it has a practical purpose – to feed us.  I’m proud of what I’ve achieved on my own.  But oh, it is taking time to get going.

Apparently it can take up to 21 days for broad beans to show their faces.  I planted some at the allotment and about 10 days later, as a sort of experiment, planted some in loo roll innards (I wish someone would come up with a one-word name for them) and put them on the window sill in the sitting room.  A couple of days ago I came home and was beyond excited to find that a broad bean had finally germinated.  I was so excited I couldn’t do anything except point and say “broad bean, broad bean, broad bean!!!”  The trouble is, nothing’s happened since.  And I do mean Nothing.  Nada.  Ne rien.  What am I doing wrong?!

A lone broad bean …
Leeks are germinating!

It’s not that everything’s refusing to grow.  I’m having some success with anything floral; the nasturtiums are going great guns, the sunflowers are coming up trumps, and the French marigolds are doing well too.  But the tomatoes were looking very leggy and weedy so I’ve planted them deep in their 3″ pots, and the squash aren’t looking as if they’re going to do anything at all at the minute.  Ok, so the leeks are doing really well and I’m happy to plant more but Mr P and I can’t just live on nasturtiums, sunflower seeds, and leeks (if anyone’s got a recipe which requires all three, please let me know).

The question is, what can I do?  I can only keep going I suppose, try to be patient, refuse to be browbeaten by vegetables, and resort to alcohol.  I’ll have a ‘Pissed as Arseholes’ cocktail, thank you very much.  Well, it is a bank holiday weekend.  Chin chin!! 

‘Pissed as Arseholes’ – a subtle blend of champagne, raspberry & blackcurrant vodka, and fresh raspberries.

 

Please feel completely free to contact me about anything at all.  All gardening advice gratefully received or we can just talk about cocktails we have known and loved.