Saved by a Boy and a Tool

The idea to give back half of the allotment to the allotment society met with frowns and disapproval when I suggested it to other members of the family, expecially as the allotment fees have just been paid for another year. I therefore resigned myself to keeping half of it strimmed for a year before handing it over, when help arrived in the shape of an energetic and strong boy and the loan of an amazing tool.

The Boy

My son, who had pretty much lost interest in vegetable growing as he'd moved into his teenage years, suddenly showed renewed enthusiasm, and now at over six foot, he was strong and capable of heavy digging and lifting that are too much for me.  

Between us, Oscar and I tackled brambles which had been left for years to grow into great monstrosities, with evil spiky shoots and enormous claw-like roots.  

We then set about digging a bed where the brambles had been, an area which I'd never tackled before, so it was hard going.  Not only were there the brambles to contend with, but stinging nettles galore, giant dock plants and great lumps of slate and bricks buried long ago.

The Tool

I'd never heard of a Terrex spade before, otherwise known as a back-saving spade, but it turned out to be an amazing bit of kit which saved the day when my friend Sue loaned it to us.  Because the ground we were digging hadn't been turned over ever, certainly in my history with the plot, it was back-breaking to try and get through with a normal fork or spade. The Terrex spade flew through it, and Oscar clearly enjoyed using it - which I encouraged because it was still too much of a job for me.

It works by flicking the soil up with a spring at the base of the shaft, so you dig down, then tilt it back and the spring acts to throw the soil forward and turn it over.  Amazing!

The spade in action!

Oscar turned over another entire bed in about twenty minutes.  The spade literally loosens and turns the soil, so you have to pull all the weeds out manually, but it definitely takes all the back-breaking effort out of it and is super-speedy, especially in the hands of a strong fifteen-year-old.

I can definitely recommend this tool, it's called the Backsaver for a reason, and although you then have to fork through your overturned soil and remove the roots and weeds, it takes the hard work out of digging.  The spade is available Here for £99, but you can find them second hand on ebay (I'm currently bidding on one for 99p - I'll let you know how that goes!)

Between Oscar and the spade I can tentatively report that maybe we will manage to work the whole plot this year.  In  a couple of days we've almost dug a massive bed and turned over a smaller one.  I estimate another six days and we could have another two big beds dug, and then it would just be pottering in the tunnel on a rainy day.

The future for my allotment certainly feels much brighter than it did a week ago.

October - the month of new beginnings!

October isn't necessarily a month known for rejuvination and revival, but for me, and more importantly, my allotment, this year it's all about starting afresh, taking a long hard look at oneself and starting anew.  For me, it means my annual month of abstinence from alcohol and all the soul-searching which accompanies that little feat of self torture, for my allotment it means it can be reborn after it's long year of lying fallow.  

Lying Fallow

With hindsight, 'lying fallow' doesn't mean completely ignoring its existance for over twelve months and allowing nature to take back control.  According to the Oxford dictionary, fallow land is land which has been "ploughed and harrowed but left for a period without being sown in order to restore its fertility or to avoid surplus production".  The latter part of the definition was definitely achieved, and hopefully fertility is restored, but I didn't do the 'ploughing and harrowing' bit, more the 'completely abandon and enjoy buying veg from the Co op' bit.

I myself wasn't lying fallow.  Not to begin with anyway.  Finishing my degree at Aberystwyth University and especially writing my ghastly dissertation meant I was lying anything but fallow, but once it was all finished, handed in, marked, graduation ceremony over, I then lay fallow for months... on a beach in Greece... in a field in Dorset... oh how I enjoyed lying fallow...

But then it was time to snap myself out of the summer of celebration, and face among other life realities - THIS!

And THIS!

And lots of these...

You get the picture?  Basically a huge overgrown field.  Inside the polytunnel wasn't much better, but potentially much easier to clear as the weeds haven't been watered lately.

The only survivors are the grape vine which has produced zillions of grapes this year (if only I had a wine-making system in operation), a few self-seeded scraggly sunflowers, some ancient now floral rocket, and a couple of parsley plants.

Wasn't this supposed to be a hobby?

Looking over the mass of overgrown chaos, I wanted to run away and never come back - this was no fun.  It was like having an enormous dog which requires tons of excericise and realising you hate walking.  

I pottered about a bit as Sue on the next allotment efficiently got on with proper autumnal duties. I poked about, took photographs and sighed alot.  When I left an hour or so later I'd hardly lifted a fork and the enormity of the task weighed heavily on me.  The next day I came to the liberating decision that I'd give half the allotment back to the allotment society and just concentrate on the polytunnel.