After a week away, playing it fast and loose in NYC on a business trip, I approached the allotment today with trepidation, not to mention a healthy dose of jetlag. With typical gardener's luck, the minute we gained control of the allotment all rain ceased and temperatures soared, so any hopes we had of the allotment's grass and plants thriving on their own during the week while we do other things has vanished.
I was relieved to see that the grass is growing - if you squint at it from the far side, it actually looks like a lawn is coming up in the final third - but up close it's still very spotty. That said, the plants were definitely suffering so we utilised all 4 of our cans and buckets, and managed to dowse the seedlings properly. Some half-hearted weeding attempts rounded out a fairly pathetic effort, and when Sarah and clan showed up, with a bottle of wine, well, that pretty much ended work for the day.
Highlights of the day include finally getting Sophie's "broken" sunflower into the ground; Sarah's gifts of carrots, squash and onions from the Kitchen House Gardens (carrots eaten on the spot, squash eaten after being gently fried in oil); the excitement with which Sophie continues to treat each visit to plot 20 and increasingly-realistic talks of the Shed Mahal - but all were overshadowed by a spotting of Colin Firth dining at the restaurant at the end of our road, al fresco. Vive la Chiswick Good Life!
Sunday 27 July 2008
Sunday 20 July 2008
So far and yet so close
Not a huge day in terms of allotment action . . . . but a lot of behind the scenes things are taking place. Sheds are being evaluated, plants are being purchased, plans are being drawn up. But still, would have been good to see more actual planting take place this weekend. Ah well.
I stopped by today solo (after the abortive attempts yesterday), and with great trepidation saw that our mystery neighbor at number 19 was in residence. I saw her talking at the fence to the neighbors on the other side and was just waffling about, trying to decide how to broach the subject of the fact that our allotment entrance is in the middle of her garden (since they were originally one) when she turned around . . . . and said, with surprise, "Why hello Susanne!" Yes, our mystery neighbor is, in fact, my real-life neighbor Yvonne, a lovely woman who lives diagonally across my street. Small allotment world!
A real relief, actually, as she is such a wonderful person, and an old friend, so it takes some of the new allotment nerves away. She was more than happy to have us share the pathway in her space, which is very kind, and I imagine we will have many cups of tea over the next few years.
Actually all the allotment owners seem kind and helpful - Sean with his dreamy garden, the nice couple at 24 who helped me break into my own car yesterday, and the couple at 18, who showed me the 5 year efforts and told me how they have barbeques and drink wine at the end of their plot, which sounds to me a lot more like what we had in mind. Here's to those salad days, may they be quick in approaching.
I stopped by today solo (after the abortive attempts yesterday), and with great trepidation saw that our mystery neighbor at number 19 was in residence. I saw her talking at the fence to the neighbors on the other side and was just waffling about, trying to decide how to broach the subject of the fact that our allotment entrance is in the middle of her garden (since they were originally one) when she turned around . . . . and said, with surprise, "Why hello Susanne!" Yes, our mystery neighbor is, in fact, my real-life neighbor Yvonne, a lovely woman who lives diagonally across my street. Small allotment world!
A real relief, actually, as she is such a wonderful person, and an old friend, so it takes some of the new allotment nerves away. She was more than happy to have us share the pathway in her space, which is very kind, and I imagine we will have many cups of tea over the next few years.
Actually all the allotment owners seem kind and helpful - Sean with his dreamy garden, the nice couple at 24 who helped me break into my own car yesterday, and the couple at 18, who showed me the 5 year efforts and told me how they have barbeques and drink wine at the end of their plot, which sounds to me a lot more like what we had in mind. Here's to those salad days, may they be quick in approaching.
Saturday 19 July 2008
Wowin' em already
Okay, so I know this is an allotment blog, and so all topics should be focused around that, and technically this IS about what happened on my way to the allotment . . . but it's not actually really "gardening-focused," so apologies up front.
So after spending a delightful hour in the Chiswick House Kitchen Gardens with Sarah and her girls - they really do have a splendid and relatively unknown treasure there - I felt more excited than ever to get over to our own little Slice of Earth and do some work.
Sarah mentioned that, on an early-morning jog-by, she had seen some grass coming up on the "back 2/3, " which we are planning on leaving as a bowling green-esque type space, with (hopefully, if I can afford it), a beautiful cherry tree and picnic bench. The reason for this was simply that the whole plot is so huge, the plan was to focus our initial growing efforts on the "top 1/3." There is a charming wooden divider in place already from Fred's previous efforts, so it's an easy way to start.
Anyway, we had laid about a "gazillion" (my daughter's phrase) grass seeds last weekend, so I would certainly hope some had germinated, but still very reassuring nonetheless. So with an eye towards seeing how the grass was coming up, planting a sunflower my daughter had been incubating on our kitchen window for the last 4 months and seeing how our initial efforts were going (cucumbers, pumpkins and sunflowers, for those paying attention), my little one and I set off with the dogs to plot 20.
I should also mention that I have been simultaneously reading three allotment-focused books in the last week, which are all gearing my excitement to a fever pitch. The books are (if anyone cares): One Man and his Dig (very entertaining, and informative - I've defaced it already with about 25 scribbled notes on the front inside cover), Digger's Diary and The Armchair Naturalist; How to be Good at Nature Without Really Trying (which is borderline anorak material, but I love it).
So, as you can gather, I am ready to go allotment-ing.
What happened was much less gardening-orientated. I got to the allotment, parked the car, got the dogs out, got my daughter out, grabbed a bag full of tools, slammed the boot shut . . . and only then realised that my car keys, wallet and mobile were all still in the car. And it autolocks.
What took place over the next three hours was a case study in the AA's uselessness, the kindliness of strangers (I had to flag down 3 separate cars to borrow mobiles, to call the useless AA), and a case study in how NOT to impress your fellow Allotmenteers. By the time I had finally given up waiting for the useless AA to arrive, I had met the famous Sean (Pride and Glory of the Promenade, as his plot has won best of out of 700 two times!) and his friend (who were lovely) and the kind inhabitants of No. 24, who helped me break into my own car.
So let's recap what our neighbors at the Promande know about us so far:
But do you know what? All I can think of is how much I wish I had a babysitter tonight, so I could dash over there after my sweetpea is in bed, and plot out our future gardening.
I guess it's love.
So after spending a delightful hour in the Chiswick House Kitchen Gardens with Sarah and her girls - they really do have a splendid and relatively unknown treasure there - I felt more excited than ever to get over to our own little Slice of Earth and do some work.
Sarah mentioned that, on an early-morning jog-by, she had seen some grass coming up on the "back 2/3, " which we are planning on leaving as a bowling green-esque type space, with (hopefully, if I can afford it), a beautiful cherry tree and picnic bench. The reason for this was simply that the whole plot is so huge, the plan was to focus our initial growing efforts on the "top 1/3." There is a charming wooden divider in place already from Fred's previous efforts, so it's an easy way to start.
Anyway, we had laid about a "gazillion" (my daughter's phrase) grass seeds last weekend, so I would certainly hope some had germinated, but still very reassuring nonetheless. So with an eye towards seeing how the grass was coming up, planting a sunflower my daughter had been incubating on our kitchen window for the last 4 months and seeing how our initial efforts were going (cucumbers, pumpkins and sunflowers, for those paying attention), my little one and I set off with the dogs to plot 20.
I should also mention that I have been simultaneously reading three allotment-focused books in the last week, which are all gearing my excitement to a fever pitch. The books are (if anyone cares): One Man and his Dig (very entertaining, and informative - I've defaced it already with about 25 scribbled notes on the front inside cover), Digger's Diary and The Armchair Naturalist; How to be Good at Nature Without Really Trying (which is borderline anorak material, but I love it).
So, as you can gather, I am ready to go allotment-ing.
What happened was much less gardening-orientated. I got to the allotment, parked the car, got the dogs out, got my daughter out, grabbed a bag full of tools, slammed the boot shut . . . and only then realised that my car keys, wallet and mobile were all still in the car. And it autolocks.
What took place over the next three hours was a case study in the AA's uselessness, the kindliness of strangers (I had to flag down 3 separate cars to borrow mobiles, to call the useless AA), and a case study in how NOT to impress your fellow Allotmenteers. By the time I had finally given up waiting for the useless AA to arrive, I had met the famous Sean (Pride and Glory of the Promenade, as his plot has won best of out of 700 two times!) and his friend (who were lovely) and the kind inhabitants of No. 24, who helped me break into my own car.
So let's recap what our neighbors at the Promande know about us so far:
- Our dogs poo.
- We outsource the hard stuff.
- I am an idiot.
But do you know what? All I can think of is how much I wish I had a babysitter tonight, so I could dash over there after my sweetpea is in bed, and plot out our future gardening.
I guess it's love.
Sunday 13 July 2008
The compost pongs for thee
Okay, so for completely non-allotment-related reasons, I'm in a horrid mood this Sunday. But still, after swimming and Sunday roast lunch with a friend, the allotment still calls.
As expected by myself and Louise, Sarah is definitely pulling 3 times her weight so far, in terms of hard graft. By the time my family got to plot 20, Sarah and hers had put in 3 hours worth of digging, sorting and ground covering.
The biggest news today was not that we managed to box in our first plants . . . . (although it felt great to see cucumber, sunflower and pumpkin plants finally go into the ground). Or that we got the back "acre" completely covered in grass seeds (fingers crossed for that bowling lawn).
Not even when our neighbors across the way came over to complain that one of our dogs had "fouled" their grass (way to make a great first impression!!). No, the true event of the day was the overpowering aroma that hung like a blanket over the allotment. The smell that reminded me mostly of the cheese knowns as Stinking Bishop. The smell that even kept the DOGS away from the area it was malingering from. Yes, it was the compost next door. Which happens to be right alongside the best wall in the whole lot to grow things in.
What was in it? I'm not sure I could say. When we were there yesterday, there was no sign of the owner of plot 19. And when we came today, they had obviously already been and gone. And, apparently, left a huge pile of festering vegetables and meat remains right on top of their compost box. Which leaves us in a funny position.
If Owner 19 is going to continue to leave super stinky garbage on the exact wall we intend to spend much of our time, I don't know what we can do, especially as one of the main values of Allotment Living is to make neighbors with a peaceful, green-loving, yogurt-knitting folk. Eek.
As expected by myself and Louise, Sarah is definitely pulling 3 times her weight so far, in terms of hard graft. By the time my family got to plot 20, Sarah and hers had put in 3 hours worth of digging, sorting and ground covering.
The biggest news today was not that we managed to box in our first plants . . . . (although it felt great to see cucumber, sunflower and pumpkin plants finally go into the ground). Or that we got the back "acre" completely covered in grass seeds (fingers crossed for that bowling lawn).
Not even when our neighbors across the way came over to complain that one of our dogs had "fouled" their grass (way to make a great first impression!!). No, the true event of the day was the overpowering aroma that hung like a blanket over the allotment. The smell that reminded me mostly of the cheese knowns as Stinking Bishop. The smell that even kept the DOGS away from the area it was malingering from. Yes, it was the compost next door. Which happens to be right alongside the best wall in the whole lot to grow things in.
What was in it? I'm not sure I could say. When we were there yesterday, there was no sign of the owner of plot 19. And when we came today, they had obviously already been and gone. And, apparently, left a huge pile of festering vegetables and meat remains right on top of their compost box. Which leaves us in a funny position.
If Owner 19 is going to continue to leave super stinky garbage on the exact wall we intend to spend much of our time, I don't know what we can do, especially as one of the main values of Allotment Living is to make neighbors with a peaceful, green-loving, yogurt-knitting folk. Eek.
Saturday 12 July 2008
Getting down to work
Three small girls, decked out in wellies, long-sleeved shirts and trousers (good coverage from the stinging nettles and brambles that are pretty much our primary output at the mo), digging in some freshly turned-over earth, singing The Wonder Pets "What's going to work . . . TEAMwork!" pretty much sums up all my fantasies about Allotment Living come to life.
With the completion of the hard rotovating work (thank you 4Mark!), this Saturday represented the day we could finally get going in our new garden. With Louise starting her summer holidays en Francais, Sarah and I dragged our darling families to The Promenade to get some dirty fingernails. Dinis (Sarah's SO) came along and did a manful job taking away of one of our primary hassles, i.e. taming the wildly over-grown pathway in. Sarah and I focused on trying to turn our 23ft x 110ft plot into something special. Or at least, something that looks less like a worm's paradise.
It was extremely quiet today at The Promenade - none of the other allotment owners seem to be around. Not sure why that was; it was overcast and threatening, but I assumed Allotment Types wouldn't be put off by that. Plus a lot of them have extremely sweet looking sheds, which we can only fantastise about. The creation of Shedzilla, or the Shed-Mahol, is a hotter topic of conversation than the rest of the allotment put together. While we cut back the brambles, tried to remove the 100 pieces of glass the rotovator seems to have unearthed, sprinkle grass seed and put down black weed block, the conversation keeps coming back to the dream shed. It's starting to sound like a boho chic, vintage, seaside-hut type of establishment, with solar power (gotta make tea!), Cath Kidston sofas and a significant play area to keep kids, yummy mummies and dads happy in the rains. I'm starting to explore some designs (the guys at Shedblog seem to have a good starting point), but think it's definitely going to be the priciest thing about Allotment Living.
With the completion of the hard rotovating work (thank you 4Mark!), this Saturday represented the day we could finally get going in our new garden. With Louise starting her summer holidays en Francais, Sarah and I dragged our darling families to The Promenade to get some dirty fingernails. Dinis (Sarah's SO) came along and did a manful job taking away of one of our primary hassles, i.e. taming the wildly over-grown pathway in. Sarah and I focused on trying to turn our 23ft x 110ft plot into something special. Or at least, something that looks less like a worm's paradise.
It was extremely quiet today at The Promenade - none of the other allotment owners seem to be around. Not sure why that was; it was overcast and threatening, but I assumed Allotment Types wouldn't be put off by that. Plus a lot of them have extremely sweet looking sheds, which we can only fantastise about. The creation of Shedzilla, or the Shed-Mahol, is a hotter topic of conversation than the rest of the allotment put together. While we cut back the brambles, tried to remove the 100 pieces of glass the rotovator seems to have unearthed, sprinkle grass seed and put down black weed block, the conversation keeps coming back to the dream shed. It's starting to sound like a boho chic, vintage, seaside-hut type of establishment, with solar power (gotta make tea!), Cath Kidston sofas and a significant play area to keep kids, yummy mummies and dads happy in the rains. I'm starting to explore some designs (the guys at Shedblog seem to have a good starting point), but think it's definitely going to be the priciest thing about Allotment Living.
Saturday 5 July 2008
History of a garden
So how did we end up in this situation in the first place? Well, I met Louise at NCT antenatal classes, and met Sarah five minutes later (we all have kids with birthdays within days of each other). The house I live in is sweet but has a tiny garden, so getting an allotment seemed like a good idea. Only problem is, people tend to keep their allotments for a lifetime, which makes getting one quite difficult. So I got on a list. And waited. And, erm, waited. Fast forward, two and a half years later, I finally was offered one.
So, figuring this is definitely a project to share, I asked the girls if they were interested in joining me. So now, here we are, Gardeners Three.
Louise got to see the plot first, and met some of the community. The area is called The Promenade and is in a enviable spot - just off the River Thames. Louise learned, from Corine @ No.17, that our plot (No.20) "was owned by Fred who was 94 when he gave it up! It was his parents' & he first saw it from his pram!!!! He loved roses & there is evidence of some wonderous rose trees in amongst the brambles & stingers."
Apparently Fred was quite the Allotment Lothario, according to Corine he gave all the women in the area a rose plant. "He owned both No. 19 & 20," says Louise, "he had chickens, a goat & rabbits." Although I sincerely doubt we'll keep livestock (oh dear Lord, just what we need), we'll try and keep the allotment within the spirit of Fred.
So, figuring this is definitely a project to share, I asked the girls if they were interested in joining me. So now, here we are, Gardeners Three.
Louise got to see the plot first, and met some of the community. The area is called The Promenade and is in a enviable spot - just off the River Thames. Louise learned, from Corine @ No.17, that our plot (No.20) "was owned by Fred who was 94 when he gave it up! It was his parents' & he first saw it from his pram!!!! He loved roses & there is evidence of some wonderous rose trees in amongst the brambles & stingers."
Apparently Fred was quite the Allotment Lothario, according to Corine he gave all the women in the area a rose plant. "He owned both No. 19 & 20," says Louise, "he had chickens, a goat & rabbits." Although I sincerely doubt we'll keep livestock (oh dear Lord, just what we need), we'll try and keep the allotment within the spirit of Fred.
Friday 4 July 2008
It begins
So we've done it. Three sane (well, mostly) women, all of whom have enough responsibility to know better, have got an allotment.
It's huge (25x25), overgrown (untended for six years) and - to be truthful - a bit daunting. All three of us work. All three of us have young children. When and how is this project going to get off the ground? And will it end up more of a burden, than the Cath Kidson-inspired idyll we dream of? Only time will tell. The only thing we feel 100% sure about is the plot's name: Fred. And the fact that, here in wildly-domesticated Chiswick, England, we've now got our own patch of earth to alter as we can.
We've taken care of Stage One the easiest way possible . . . . by hiring two guys to make our brambles into a (sort of) green field. It's shocking what two men and some heavy machinery can do in a day. Leaving our men and kids at a Friday night BBQ, we wandered over and took a look at what They Hath Wrought, and were happily surprised.
What was previously 6 foot tall weeds is now all potential. So what happens next? Stay tuned!
It's huge (25x25), overgrown (untended for six years) and - to be truthful - a bit daunting. All three of us work. All three of us have young children. When and how is this project going to get off the ground? And will it end up more of a burden, than the Cath Kidson-inspired idyll we dream of? Only time will tell. The only thing we feel 100% sure about is the plot's name: Fred. And the fact that, here in wildly-domesticated Chiswick, England, we've now got our own patch of earth to alter as we can.
We've taken care of Stage One the easiest way possible . . . . by hiring two guys to make our brambles into a (sort of) green field. It's shocking what two men and some heavy machinery can do in a day. Leaving our men and kids at a Friday night BBQ, we wandered over and took a look at what They Hath Wrought, and were happily surprised.
What was previously 6 foot tall weeds is now all potential. So what happens next? Stay tuned!
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