It was a cold day. The allotment site is up the hill and catches the wind and under the grey sky it felt weirdly open. Compared to my little green box of a garden, this felt like an open plane, even though it's just a little space surrounded by houses in the estate.
Don't worry! Said the allotment treasurer, who'd been the one pushing the allotments on our network. There's allotments enough for everyone! Allotment 1, closest to the gate, wrapped around the communal shed (home of the strimmer and mower) and backed onto an ivy and douglas hedge. Allotments 2-3 backed onto the houses, surrounded by very tidy plots full of regimented onions and broad beans, looking a little weedy in this rather rough spring. Allotment 4 was a tangled mess of couch grass, paving stones and rubbish sweeping uphill to an unhedged backgarden bordered with brambles. Allotment 5, the furthest from the gate, was a mess of bleak, broken soil, slightly waterlogged, as if someone had put down some weed control so severe it had also taken out everything else. Except the Horse Tail, which was doing fine, sprouting everywhere. I pulled a stem and waved it at the treasurer. Is this a big problem on the allotments, I said? There's a bit of clump here, she said, and it's possible it will spread out and destroy the whole area. But for now, it's... mostly contained.
I was quite taken by the one by the gate -- it had that on point, riding shotgun sort of feel, and wasn't intimidatingly large. But one of the others leapt on that instantly, a weekend man seeking more space. The East Oxford Cyclist went for one of the little plots in among the tidy spaces. She'd just lost another allotment to horsetail -- it's a major weed on the whole estate. That and sucker ash.
Do you mind if I go back and look at 4? I asked. You go ahead, she said. I've got the paperwork for when you're ready. I peeled back a bit of some of the rubbish on Plot 4. It was some sort of waxed tarp, the cover off a landrover maybe, something like that, laid down to supress weeds. I'd brought a small fork with me, and broke the soil, and rubbed it between my hands.
The couch grass is fierce here, but there's no Horse Tail. Yet! We'll see if it comes in once I start clearing beds. There's a lot of rubbish - paving slabs, bricks. There's a sort of compost thing, full of crap, dry compost, mostly couch grass with a few dessicated pumpkins. Plenty of things are growing in there already, among the grass and weeds. The poly-tunnel is the neighbour on one side, the heap visible on the right is the neighbour in the other direction. The camera has flattened the slope a bit, but it's gentle, and warm. A sun-catcher.
At the Co-op on the corner I sketched a plan, while some local characters wrangled blattedly behind me, a cheery memorial of the pub it had been before. Doubtless that'll change, as time goes by.
Don't worry! Said the allotment treasurer, who'd been the one pushing the allotments on our network. There's allotments enough for everyone! Allotment 1, closest to the gate, wrapped around the communal shed (home of the strimmer and mower) and backed onto an ivy and douglas hedge. Allotments 2-3 backed onto the houses, surrounded by very tidy plots full of regimented onions and broad beans, looking a little weedy in this rather rough spring. Allotment 4 was a tangled mess of couch grass, paving stones and rubbish sweeping uphill to an unhedged backgarden bordered with brambles. Allotment 5, the furthest from the gate, was a mess of bleak, broken soil, slightly waterlogged, as if someone had put down some weed control so severe it had also taken out everything else. Except the Horse Tail, which was doing fine, sprouting everywhere. I pulled a stem and waved it at the treasurer. Is this a big problem on the allotments, I said? There's a bit of clump here, she said, and it's possible it will spread out and destroy the whole area. But for now, it's... mostly contained.
I was quite taken by the one by the gate -- it had that on point, riding shotgun sort of feel, and wasn't intimidatingly large. But one of the others leapt on that instantly, a weekend man seeking more space. The East Oxford Cyclist went for one of the little plots in among the tidy spaces. She'd just lost another allotment to horsetail -- it's a major weed on the whole estate. That and sucker ash.
Do you mind if I go back and look at 4? I asked. You go ahead, she said. I've got the paperwork for when you're ready. I peeled back a bit of some of the rubbish on Plot 4. It was some sort of waxed tarp, the cover off a landrover maybe, something like that, laid down to supress weeds. I'd brought a small fork with me, and broke the soil, and rubbed it between my hands.
The couch grass is fierce here, but there's no Horse Tail. Yet! We'll see if it comes in once I start clearing beds. There's a lot of rubbish - paving slabs, bricks. There's a sort of compost thing, full of crap, dry compost, mostly couch grass with a few dessicated pumpkins. Plenty of things are growing in there already, among the grass and weeds. The poly-tunnel is the neighbour on one side, the heap visible on the right is the neighbour in the other direction. The camera has flattened the slope a bit, but it's gentle, and warm. A sun-catcher.
At the Co-op on the corner I sketched a plan, while some local characters wrangled blattedly behind me, a cheery memorial of the pub it had been before. Doubtless that'll change, as time goes by.
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