Friday, 27 January 2012
But, last weekend, I just had an hour with Eric in the tea hut. We boiled the kettle and put classical music on the radio. We sat on our wooden chairs with their heart and flower-patterned cushions, and talked about this and that, and got a bit stiff and cold (although we could have put the calor gas heater on and shut the door. But somehow it's life-affirming to sit there, with the drizzle outside bringing in the damp and the wind bringing in the cold, and watching Carole's raspberry canes bowing in the wind.
The photos will show you our little communal hideaway, a place of clutter and books, and teapots and cups, and Tony's beautiful paintings on the walls, and many clocks, chairs, chests and gas bottles, notices on the wall, tins of biscuits or nails and screws, and bits of everything, and hot tea.
And I've been a complete garden geek researching asparagus crowns. I'm getting them shipped up from a farm in Kent, they last ten years so might as well make sure I get good ones!
I can't wait for spring. It's the small things in life, that make it worth living. The cycle of things sprouting, growing, fruiting, dying back, rotting, lying dormant, and growing again. I love the seasons and the way the allotment changes every day as the weather and seasons change.
At the moment, my plot is waterlogged in places, muddy, damp, mostly everything has died right back, and the soil is bare or covered, and it's rough-dug or clumpy. The greenhouse is empty, the pond is over-flowing, there are dead artichokes on brown stalks, and dried up fox gloves and gladioli that I can't quite bring myself to compost yet. Rotting sunflower heads, ten foot jerusalem artichoke stems, and bare branches on my trees and bushes.
Everything is waiting, including me, for the time when it's growing time again.