Spring again

The allotment has not been dead, though in the cold, damp climate of North West England even the weeds have been on strike. Some vegetables have overwintered. I have a few specimens of curly kale, which are destined for soup in the next few days. They dwell in a small bed of brassicas between some specimens of purple sprouting broccoli. Over the winter I have inspected these with some frustration:planted last year they grew large but did not sprout.I toyed with pulling them up, but hope forbade me, but it was a case of "Sprout, you unco-operative plants! Please " Then a small patch of purple at the tip, then another, and they grew, as Spring surged on.  As I write, Maureen is currently flying to Malaysia to see our son, who teaches there, so I am hoping that when she returns in two weeks there will be some lovely broccoli florets to welcome her. 

I suspect that the light has a part to play in the flowering, as the weather in this isle has been inclement, as chill north westerly winds scoured the land, so it was certainly not the warmth that did it. The weather has been wet, but that's no problem. But the rain has flooded the allotment gateway, so we must negotiate the puddle to walk in. 

Buds emerge. My son Andrew and I planted gooseberries this year. I have this fear that what I plant will fail to grow, but the buds are green on the brown wood; and the trees are thus showing the same signs. Apple, pear, damson and plum, all are revealing the life force of Spring. I really must check on the cherries. Rhubarb stalks are standing firm. It's early, but the main variety of rhubarb round here is Timperley Early, not surprising, as Timperley is only three miles away.

But the weeds have started work again. Ground elder! It's a bane. The Romans introduced it as a salad vegetable. They left, leaving behind a few of their genes, Hadrian's wall and some other archaeological remains and the ground elder. It spreads ferociously. The trouble is that it comes from under the nearby road, so I cannot dig up the source of it, as Trafford Council might have something critical to say if they find me with a digger in the middle of one of their roads. So might the police. However, it tastes like parsley, the herb that pushed it out of the British culinary repertoire. There's a use for it! But against weeds it is war without end. 

My home is in Greater Manchester, the southernmost part of the county of Lancashire. We are  thirty miles from the Irish Sea, a mile from the river Mersey, and only 70 feet above sea level, on flat land. There are advantages and disadvantages to the location. Our low height and proximity to water means that there is less frost than areas further east, but we are known to be rainy, which is no bad thing.But the flat land is prone to winds, for it provides no shelter, so my plot can be a wind tunnel at times. However, we are not prone to flooding, a problem that besets certain parts of Britain, as the Mersey, which is not far away, is contained within its banks by strong defences. 

The climate means that the soil is still too cold to plant in the ground. But my answer is raised beds.Gardeners will note that the soil in well-raised beds is warmer than the surrounding soil, so into them have gone some second early potatoes and onions. Carrots have also been sown, and today I will sow some spring onions. Not only is the soil in the raised beds a bit warmer than the ground is, but the sides of the beds provide  protection for the plants against the wind. 

I have ventured to make my first hugel. Hugels are a German technique whereby vegetables are grown in mounds. It is a kind of raised bed without walls, but the advantage is that you can grow on the sides, whereas you cannot do that with a raised bed.  

But as you see from the pictures, growth is yet limited. All were taken today, 3rd April 2015, and so much soil is still bare. Later you will see the greening.

Above you see raised beds made of pallet collars, one atop the other. They are filled with rich compost, both purchased and home made, and you can just see the onions. Behind them raised beds is my first small venture into hugel culture, a small mound in which vegetables are grown. In the background are tyre planters. The tyres were begged from a garage glad to be rid of them for free and are filled with compost.   

The wind worries me, and so I had to fasten the greenhouse down firmly. Bolts affix it to slabs, but I added pink grip, a fast drying cement. Besides the greenhouse is a container for bits and bobs, such as netting, that I do not want to leave lying around. Nearby are green water butts for water saving during summer.  Notice the paths, all are made of wood chip refreshed in winter from chip supplied by the council. They  clear unwanted trees and give away the chippings to allotments. Wood chip, an article in Permaculture magazine tells us is a great soil enhancer and enriches the fungal life of the soil.

You can see two apple trees. In the background on the neighbouring plot is a vandalized greenhouse awaiting the completion of repairs. You can also see a jostaberry bush. The sheeting in the centreground was moved there by wind, having been stacked near the greenhouse. 

The rhubarb is sprouting near some planters. The tyre planters contain onions, but behind them are blueberries, which cannot grow in my soil as they require acid soils, so I use ericaceous compost, which is acidic enough. Come to think of it, refreshing the compost in those planters is an urgent need. Those of you who have followed my chats with Telesto about the fox will see where she came to feast on her wood pigeon in the shelter of the planters, crouching away from the wind and prying eyes.  

Planting the remainder of the beds, those that are not raised, is the main priority. Peas will be planted in succession for a short period to stagger the harvesting time. I am thinking about where to plant the sweet corn, probably just near the raised beds. Sweet corn is a bit of a quandary. I like corn on the cob, and have had some success, but not every cob produces a full complement of seeds in our climate. Corn is a warm weather crop, and we are not in a warm climate. I would like to grow it in greenhouses, but it is wind pollinated and so needs exposure to moving air, otherwise the pollination does not happen. Cauliflowers are a favourite vegetable with me, and so some will be laid down when the weather warms up, along with kale, which resists slugs well. Protecting the cauliflowers against the ever-predatory wood pigeons is urgent, as these little beasts gobble the heart out of a cauliflower. 

I need to plant up the greenhouse, but it is a matter of timing. Too early a planting can result in disaster, if a late frost destroys the crop. Tomatoes can be turned to black mush by a simple frost. It has happened to me once before. I need to spruce up the greenhouse, tightening bolts after winter, before I plant. 

There is a small greenhouse to be erected. Andrew, my horticulturalist son, will help me. His fiance [due to be his wife in June] is off to her native Portugal to see her mother, who is too unwell to attend the wedding, and so Andrew will be alone. It is good to have a thirty three year old helping with any digging, though it brings home forcefully to me that I am in my mid sixties and slowing down, but still very fit for my age. 

But as an allotment committee member [vice chair] I cannot guarantee being able to work undisturbed. The ever-busy and wonderful secretary, Barbara, sometimes comes to discuss an issue, such as the vandalism of the neighbouring greenhouse. Moreover, I have just been elected to the area committee [Urmston Allotment and Garden Society.] Official role, site representative; unofficially, trouble shooter, sent to resolve issues in the most peaceful way possible. You may be surprised that the grumpy individualists who till allotments can be quite quarrelsome sometimes. 

You have had a glimpse into the life of a plot holder on a small, but friendly allotment site.The council allotments officer likes our site, because we never give her any trouble. We are short of space and money, though Barbara is a Godsend, as she busies herself trying to obtain grants and hold events. We won an award last year for progress made. This year we want best allotment site in Trafford. It's  a hard task, but we live in hope. 

I had better work on that flowerbed!

All photographs were taken by Frank Beswick