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.