Soulemama

on the allotment: June 19

slugs

snail

cucumber seedlings

This week I could complain about the slugs and snails or boast about the cucumber seedlings, but what I would really like to do is celebrate the humble broad bean.

broad beans

Ours were sown in March, so are well behind our neighbour’s crop, which they put in last winter. I think I will try overwintering for next year, as it would be lovely to have some fresh beans right now to smash into crostini toppings or whizz into hummus to go with the plates of salad leaves we are harvesting.

bean flower

However, I love this stage of the broad bean. I have always been fascinated by the idea of a flower that is black and white: so elegant and striking, and so unlikely somehow. But it wasn’t until earlier this year, when I was reading John Clare as part of my degree, that I realised these flowers also have a heavenly scent. Clare (1793-1864) has been one of the great discoveries of my course so far: he’s astonishingly relevant today in his attitude to the environment, and his beautifully observed writing about the natural world around his Northamptonshire village of Helpstone makes me want to rush out into the woods and start looking for birds and flowers.

Here’s the poem that taught me to lean over to smell the broad beans:

The Bean Field

A bean field full in blossom smells as sweet
As Araby, or groves of orange flowers;
Black-eyed and white, and feathered to one’s feet,
How sweet they smell in morning’s dewy hours!
When seething night is left upon the flowers,
And when morn’s bright sun shines o’er the field,
The bean-bloom glitters in the gems o’ showers,
And sweet the fragrance which the union yields
To battered footpaths crossing o’er the fields.

John Clare

I was tying some of the taller plants to canes the other day and realised the leaves are also perfumed: they smell almost the same as the beans and to brush against one is to experience the delicious anticipation of the day when the pods will be ripe enough to open. My mother always froze some and served them up on Christmas Eve, smothered in parsley sauce, the perfect accompaniment to boiled ham. And I shall do the same.

I’m linking up with Soulemama today, and other people around the world who post notes about how their gardens are growing.

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How does your garden grow?

Hmm, well in our garden the answer to that question all depends on where you stand. I could place you in front of the bog garden and pond, for example.

pond and bog garden

iris
That might give the impression of a relatively well-tended space. But you would only have to turn through 90 degrees to see this.

hedge clippings
And this.

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Hedge clippings waiting to be disposed of, a flowerbed so full it is amazing everything doesn’t collapse from strangulation.

It’s a similar story, but multiplied to the power of ten, down on the allotment. On the one hand I am ridiculously excited about the number of beans we have been able to plant, and I particularly like having enough room for a ridge support, which makes me feel like a proper veg grower.

beans
On the other hand – this confusion of fruit bushes, comfrey and waist-high grass is more typical of the plot as a whole.

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There have been times this month when I have wondered whether we will ever get on top of everything. Slugs ate all our beetroot and Brussels sprout seedlings. Birds took the first strawberries.

As an allotment newbie I’m learning the importance of perseverance. I’ve put nets on the strawberries and bought some new Brussels sprouts plants – which will also be netted. I’ve taken an old strimmer to be overhauled. It feels like a long slog, getting this plot under control, but every day there are encouragements to spur us on.

gooseberries

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green strawberries

I’m linking up with Soulemama today: I love the idea of gardeners all over the world sharing their plots. What’s more, sometimes Amanda posts a garden cocktail recipe. I’m not normally a great cocktail fan, but she had me at the Rhubarb Collins – another great incentive to persevere with growing.