Tinkerbell

The tiny shed really needed some form of adornment, and at the bonfire party I decided on a bell.  It would have been very useful if visitors could have rung a bell when they arrived, so that I could have politely greeted them.  Not just any old bell though.  A bell emblazened with roses and with a dainty fairy on top.  I'd had my eye on it for a while, but didn't have a place to put it. 

The tiny shed really has character now.  The bell has a beautifully clear brass tone, and is surprisingly loud.  I hope it's not too loud for the fairies. 

Wotya gonna do with all that junk...

all that junk dumped in your plot?

For quite a while I had no idea.  I just let it all pile up by the front gate.  And pile up it did.  I marvelled at how much junk the previous owner had managed to accumulate in such a small space.  At least all piled up in one place I felt I had it pinned down and manageable. 

In the end I started to rationalise it by sorting it into types of junk.  One bin liner full recyclable plastic, another two full of non recyclable.  Four triple bagged bags of broken glass.  I loaded the whole lot into the back of Charis my trusty Yaris Verso.  I was surprised at how much I could get into the wheelie bins at home. 

I donated the plastic compost bin to the new people opposite.  People new to gardening seem to like those plastic compost bins.  I really can't see the point of them myself.  In the past I've got so frustrated at how impossible it is to retrieve the compost from the small hole in the side that I've taken the whole structure off and cast it scornfully away. 

A fellow allotment holder is confident she can find a home for the mouldy old plastic sand pit that was used as a pond.  It seems rather unlikely to me. 

So that just leaves  the 4 trailer wheels complete with tyres, and the two rusty trolleys.  I suppose I might be able to use the casters.

Lost twin

I was clearing the old broken panes of glass from the side of the compost heap in the new allotment yesterday.  Whilst cutting back the nettles growing through them, I spyed an intriguing sight in the allotment next door.  It was a chair.  A chair face down in the mud and leaves, with hawthorn saplings growing through its slats. 

The saplings were about four years old, and had pushed and bowed the slats, so the chair was cruelly impaled right through.  It looked very uncomfortable, and was probably in pain.  I wish I had my camera, because it would have made a good, if weird, photo. 

However, I had to act immediately.  It took a lot of energy, but I managed to saw through all the saplings, and release the chair from its bonds. 

I could then see that it was the twin of the chair that my old neighbour had given me, instead of burning it.  This chair is scorched along its frame, and has a part of a foot missing.  What tales it could tell.

 So now it has a new home, and a new purpose in life.  It has taken up company with the delapidated wooden table in the annexed allotment, and provides a restful place to eat apples.

Moving on

The wren has a new roosting pocket.  It is the prettiest little home I have ever seen.  It is like a country cottage for birds.  I had to harden my heart and practice tough love.   I've dismantled her own roosting pocket in the shack, and have hung the new one in its place with a few of her leaves in it.  I'm hoping this will acclimatise her to it.  In a couple of days I'll move it outside onto the tree.  It's the kindest way I can think of to put an end to the poo problem.

Size matters.

I've just bought an enormous padlock for the new shed.  I didn't realise how big it would be when I ordered it.  It is really ridiculously massive, the sort of padlock a man would buy if he was lacking in confidence about his masculinity.  I decided to keep it, because it made me laugh.  The new shed is the tinyest shed you can buy, and now it has this padlock on it. It looks like a kind of blinging gangster rap chav shed now.  Maybe I'll pimp it up along that theme.  The thing is, there's nothing worth stealing inside anyway, just old tools. 

I think there's a kind of comedy quality to the new allotment.  I started tuning into it when I made a smiley face for the crater where the frog pond used to be.  Apples for eyes, a nose shaped stone for the nose, and a terracotta pot rim for the smile.  Then a creature ate the eyes in the night.

Black magic

Against my Godmother's wise counsel, I have smothered the weed infested growing area on the annexed allotment with yards and yards of black plastic.  It would have made a gorgeous wedding dress for a goth. 

My Godmother said I should be rather cunning and circumspect, and not tidy up the allotment too much in case the present incumbent returns and thinks 'oh good she's tidied it up and now it's much easier to maintain.  I'll keep it.'

You see, I'm not the official tenant until March, when rent is paid.  However, I am on the plotholder plans, and have had official sanction to tidy from one of the allotment officials.  I found it impossible to resist, because I love creating order where there is chaos.  Also it is the ideal time of year for clearing and structural work.

So, all the raised beds are now a pile of useful timber in one corner, and the land is a sea of black.  It looks rather sombre, and is not a sight that lifts a pixie's heart.  I'm thinking of painting big flowers all over it.  The original allotment has a similar appearance, only there it is a river of black bordered by grass. 

It is strange how the black over the land seems to affect my spirits.  I'm recalling all the trials I had this year with pests and disease, and how hard it was to dig the land.  Maybe it's just SAD.  I think massive flowers painted over the black will get me through the winter, and may be a magickal way of encouraging fertility.  My soil needs all the help it can get.

I am a firestarter

Well, in the end the bonfire started itself.  I hadn't added enough cardboard, and we gave up.  We turned our attention instead to the rather pleasant bonfire feast - home made toffee apples, parkin and mulled wine.  Then there was suddenly a beautiful flare of fire, and the bonfire had come alive.  The flames were gold and red and purple, and as it matured it became a golden circle of fire, which I had great fun dancing around. 

I put tea light holders in and around the trees, but the wind blew most of them out.  I'll have to resort to solar lighting next time, and those flares you can stick in the ground.  I moved the tea lights to our seating area, where they stayed alight mostly, and added a magical glow to our conversation. 

We were the only people at the allotments.  It would have been great fun if there had been lots of us down there.  If I was retired I'd enjoy organising allotment events. 

raising the dead

Today I started to raise the dead raised beds. They are totally overgrown, and look like a neglected graveyard.  I really can't see the point of raised beds.  Proper two feet high ones for disabled people, or for long rooted vegetables, yes.  However in my view there is little advantage in raising the earth by 5 inches.  It might look tidy but that's about it.  Actually raised beds always remind me of freshly dug graves.  Especially the little ones you can buy in kit form in garden centres.  The annexed allotment has 9 of these graves, although they are home made from old bits of decking.  It probably took a long time to do, but new life is pushing them up from the earth, helped by an Irishman's shovel. 

One poo too many

Really I need to evict the wren.  It would be ok if she just stayed in her roosting pocket and was shack trained.  However, she is always discovering new places to leave a little white surprise for me.  Today it was my heart shaped cushion that my Auntie gave me.  I've had to get rid of the chopping board, because she likes to decorate that most days.  So enough is enough.  The trouble is it's the wrong time of year for eviction of unhygenic wrens.  I don't know if she'd find another place to roost, and the blue tit has taken the nesting box.  I'm looking into buying some roosting pockets. 

greenhouse greening

Today I sowed my first seeds in the new (well rather old actually) greenhouse in my annexed allotment.  It's a very characterful greenhouse.  It has moss on its frame, and lots of cracked, bowed or completely missing panes of grass.  It still does a good job of keeping the rain out and the warmth in though.

I cleaned and oiled the door frame the other day, and it now opens and closes like a young greenhouse. 

I've started to put plants in there for overwintering, and today I sowed some medlar seeds.  It was a kind of greenhouse inaugeration ritual.  The medlars were very interesting.  I was rather taken with the smell of the decomposing flesh.  It had a musty smell, rather like linseed oil.  It reminded me of my art studio.  I wonder what type of creature would find this smell appealing enough to eat it.  I couldn't really think of one, other than the thing that lives under the greenhouse, and perhaps myself. 

That made me wonder if the flesh was actually to aid germination of the seed.  So I've done an experiment.  I've planted one medlar straight in the pot with the flesh still around the seeds.  I've also taken the seeds out of the flesh and planted them separately in compost.  It was rather delightful squishing the seeds out of the medlar.  I also enjoyed labeling the seed tray with a little tag with medlar written on it.  I feel I've established myself as the guardian of the greenhouse. 

We'll see what happens...

Safely gathered in

I've been making modifications to the gates on my allotments.  I've given the chicken wire gate of my original allotment a smart wire loop to close it with.  This won't wear away like the various other things I've attempted to secure it with. 

I've also cleared around the Heath Robinson gate in the new allotment.  It is some kind of tubular metal and mesh framework, perhaps an old mattress base?  Who knows.  I removed the clumsy wooden posts holding it in place, as they didn't get on with the wheel arches of my car.  Instead I made two wire hinges and a wire hook for it. 

In the process of clearing access to the gate, I discovered that I appear to have my very own quince tree.  How lovely.  I had adopted the quince tree outside my first allotment, and then I realised it was actually somebody's property.  That was after I'd rather ruthlessly pruned it.  It produced a very beautiful quince this year though, so perhaps it benefitted from that or the ash feed I gave it. 

Recently I found a whole cache of fallen medlar fruit from a tree I'd never noticed before near where I live.  The fruit was gorgeously rotten and ready for planting.  If the medlar seed sprouts, I'll have two interesting heritage fruit trees to care for.

I've sneekily annexed the land of the new allotment by making a wheelbarrow sized gateway in the chicken wire fence between them.  It's a lot easier to work there now, as I can just wheel the wheelbarrow through the gateway.  A lot safer too, as it was only a matter of time before I lost my footing while negotiating the fence with a sharp tool in my hand. 

boundaries

It seems to be a time for defining boundaries in my allotments.  The other day I tried to move the oversized and rather wobbly table from my shed to the recently acquired greenhouse.  It didn't survive the journey.  I felt increasingly like a murderer trying to dispose of a body, as I dragged and rolled it over to the annexed land, and then partially dismantled it in order to get it in the greenhouse.  Something had to give, it was either going to be the greenhouse glass or the table.  Finally I heard the sound of splintering wood, and I new it was the sound of a table passing over. 

I had become quite attached to it.  I even developed a fondness for its cobwebby underparts.  I particularly loved the evidence of the many years of service on its top.  There are all manner of different paints, and some rather beautiful stencils of fleur de lis, made when someone had resprayed something like an iron fire grate front perhaps. 

I was loath to burn the top, and then realised it would make a good front defence for my heap in progress.  Making the heap is a bit of a balancing act, and things are forever rolling off the top.  With the table top completing the square, the heap's digestive process is contained.  It acts rather like a hernia gauze. 

I was pleased to discover that the fleur de lis pattern is much more visible with the table top in its new place.  I might even add some stencils of my own.

new bird

I was able to watch the early evening moon today.  It was set like a piece of ivory in a pale lavender sky.  It was a sky that almost smelt of lavender, with whispy white clouds.  There was a pure clean light shining all through the sky from the moon. 

I was sitting on my bench by the shack, letting the sky untangle me, when a bluetit flew down to the nest box on the shed.  It was about to go in, but saw me and thought better of it.  What a shame.  I got the impression it wasn't the first time it had made that journey though.  I hope it's just using it for roosting, and is not totally confused by the weather and is starting a family.

Topsy turvy

It's all going pear shaped.  The poppy seeds I sowed recently are already germinating, and it looks like some of the Alpine ones are too. The garlic I planted to get the benefit of the winter frosts is sprouting as well.  I'm just going to have to leave them all be and hope for the best. 

A better surprise is that the grass seed I sowed too weeks ago has turned into beautiful young grass. 

Giant mole?

I've now cleared most of the junk from inside the greenhouse.  I can now see the floor, and it is worryingly uneven.  There is a large boil-like mound in it, and when I lift the black plastic covering, the earth has large fissures in its surface.  I wonder if something subterranean and menacing has made its home down there.  Something with musty fur, sharp claws and breath like comfrey juice. 

The only way to find out is to start digging.

duplex

I've discovered there's a mouse living under my shed.  The other day I was relaxing in my chair in the shed, and I saw a little brown shape on the floor.  I looked down, and it was moving.  With my surprised cry it vanished. 

Then for the last few days I've noticed a half eaten apple nestling against the shed base by the front door.  I can see in my mind's eye how the mouse has huddled there near the protection of its basement home, nibbling at its enormous harvest, too big to drag under the shed.

Well, I don't mind this way round.  If it was above me scuttling over my ceiling it would be another matter.

Vegetable guardian

I carved the largest pumpkin from my allotment into a guardian spirit for Samhain/Halloween yesterday.  It had a happy smile with cute little fangs, and its eyes were appealingly lopsided.