winter

Allotment secrets

The days are getting longer and I am itching to start our first full growing season on the new allotment. But there’s nothing I can do there yet. Sheffield has escaped flooding this year, thank goodness, but still the ground is waterlogged.

Our allotment: very much a work in progress

Our allotment: very much a work in progress

This week we had some pale sunshine and I wandered down to the site to see what I would find. There’s a strange tension on a warm day in February: I welcome the break in wintry grey and the sudden loudness of birdsong in the woods but I also fear that plants will start to push through too soon. The weather is fickle at this time year and a week of mild temperatures can be followed by iron frosts: last year we had thick snow at the end of March.

DSC_0019

DSC_0022

On the allotments there is an air of expectancy. Most of the plots that I first saw bursting with produce back in August are empty now. Here and there I spot a few leeks, some overblown brassicas, but on the whole the beds are a uniform brown, naked beneath the watery sky.

A few are covered in thick layers of manure: it looks as though nothing is happening but I am obsessed with soil these days and I know billions of organisms are active below the surface, pulling down goodness, working fertility, preparing the way for sowing and harvest.

DSC_0006

Every so often the earth offers a glimpse of spring. Crimson rhubarb tips, startling in their brightness; a clump of snowdrops.

DSC_0032Nobody needs a snowdrop on an allotment and it makes me smile to think of someone defiantly planting them on this very practical prospect of rickety sheds, raised beds and upturned wheelbarrows.

DSC_0034

I think there has been some secret revelry while most of us gardeners were curled up in our warm houses. The scarecrows that won a prize in last year’s allotment competition are looking decidedly the worse for wear.

Before ...
Before …
After
After

I’m about to move on when I see something strange is also happening on the scarecrow-plot’s shed. They’ve put a green roof on it, these enterprising allotment neighbours of ours.

DSC_0002

Back in the summer it was thick with grass and wild flowers but now the vegetation has died back a bit to reveal a whole new world, a jumbled-up jungle, a scrambled safari park.

DSC_0023DSC_0024DSC_0025DSC_0026It’s compelling, the liminality of this place, this time of year. The allotments are in the city but barely of it, full of bustle and busyness but keeping their activity silent and hidden. The season is mostly winter but also teetering on the threshold of spring. No wonder there is magic on the shed roof.

What else am I missing, I wonder as I turn for home.

Advertisements

nineteen

After one of the warmest and driest Novembers on record, December in Sheffield has been the kind of month that makes you wonder how come we haven’t evolved into a species that hibernates. But on Sunday the sun broke through and as I walked up my beloved Porter Valley I realised that the weeks of sleet and freezing rain had been worth it.

This waterfall, one of my favourite stopping places, has been a trickle since the spring

Similarly, higher up the valley the stream that feeds it has been almost dry. No more!

The sun shone, there was a sprinkling of snow and for a few glorious hours the gloom of winter seemed to have passed. As the shortest day approaches, it was a good reminder that though winter comes, spring is not far behind.

two

It was cold, wet and grey in Todmorden yesterday but I still came away completely inspired – as I always do. Todmorden, a market town in west Yorkshire, is home to the brilliant Incredible Edible project and the folk who are the driving force behind it have a saying: ‘We don’t do negative.’ Just what I needed to hear.

The town has been through a period of decline but is now forging a new identity from the simple but radical starting point of growing food for everyone to share. Today I spoke to a wonderful woman who works full time without pay on spreading the incredible edible message. Then I visited a self-confessed ‘city girl’ who has discovered a passion for growing vegetables and built a whole new network of friends since she took on one of the 30 raised beds that her son’s school makes available to parents.

I can't write about Todmorden without including a vegetable picture. This cabbage was growing in one of the community beds outside the college.

Finally, I called on a couple of farmers who are passionate about animal welfare and have a flourishing business selling meat direct to the public. Not only that, they also work with the local secondary school to help deliver a BTEC in Agriculture, which has engaged many young people who were finding the mainstream curriculum had little to offer them.

In between, I feasted on Mexican bean soup in the wonderful Bear Cafe. Thank you, Todmorden – you’re a tonic for anyone fighting the winter blues.

 

Advent blog calendar

Two years ago I blogged through December in a bid to fight the winter blues and it seems I need to do the same this year too. I know what depression feels like and I’m not there yet, but I can sense it lurking on the margins. Maybe it’s the short days or the huge uni workload or, indeed, the sense of imminent financial Armageddon across the western world – whatever, I find myself wanting to cry for no reason and stay in bed rather than do things I normally enjoy.

I had coffee with a young friend of mine the other day and she told me she thought she might have a ‘depressive mindset’. Without really thinking too hard I found myself saying that I thought a tendency to depression, if kept under control, could be a creative thing. I’m not for a minute suggesting that it is always possible to keep depression at bay but I have learned through experience that noticing symptoms early and then doing something creative in response can be very therapeutic.

So on the grounds that attack is the best form of defence, I plan to blog every day during Advent: a daily post, probably pretty short, with a picture taken on that day. Seeking out things to photograph when you are feeling down is a really good way of taking your mind off the negative and noticing the good that is around us. It’s a shame that today’s picture is so crappy, though.ImageIt’s supposed to be an illustration of why I enjoy being at my uni so much. You can sit in the library and look out over the bus and railway stations as well as the much debated Park Hill Flats and I thought it would sum up the way both universities in Sheffield make a real effort to engage with the city rather than being ivory towers. My brain is seriously stretched with literary theory these days and it’s good to be reminded that there’s a real world out there, not too far away.

Finally, a huge thank you to Jacqueline whose blog always makes me smile, and who had me positively beaming today thanks to her very sweetly bestowing on me the Jennifer Avventura Reader Appreciation Award. I’m very honoured and very heartened. So thank you again, Jacqueline – and thanks for your unfailingly cheerful blog posts!

Image