Autumn Changes

 There’s something about this time of year on the allotments. The summer flowers are fading, the beans are giving up the last of their energy, and the soil begins to show itself again after months of being hidden beneath leaves and growth. It’s a season of clearing and preparing, and I always find myself torn between the sadness of saying goodbye to another growing season and the satisfaction of tidying everything up, knowing that it’s all part of the cycle.

This past week, we managed three good sessions up at the allotments. Each one left us that little bit more on top of things and reminded me why I’m grateful for the help I get from Sam and Iris. Between the three of us, we got stuck into a proper clear-out, and the difference is already showing.

Clearing Away the Summer

The first big job was clearing out the flowers and the green beans. It’s always a bit of a wrench pulling up plants that have given so much colour and food, but when the time comes, the time comes. Sam and Iris really rolled their sleeves up and took on the marigolds. I lost count of how many came up, but I’d say hundreds, easily. They’ve been flowering their hearts out all summer, keeping the place alive with those fiery oranges and yellows, and I’ll admit, the plots will look a little bare without them. Still, nothing goes to waste here. We piled everything into a huge heap, ready to start its slow journey into compost. One person’s dead plant is another person’s future soil fertility.

Meanwhile, I brought out one of my favourite tools — the wheeled hoe with the cultivator head fitted. It’s a simple bit of kit, but what a job it does. With the ground freshly cleared, I pushed it over the soil, loosening and breaking the surface. It’s one of those tasks that’s oddly satisfying, seeing the soil open up and knowing you’re already setting the stage for next season’s planting.

It wasn’t perfect though. The rain this past week had left some patches far too wet to work, and I’ve learned not to fight the soil when it’s waterlogged. That only leads to compaction and claggy boots. So I did what I could and left the rest to dry out for a few days. Once it firms up a little, I’ll be back over it to finish the job properly.

Harvesting the Potatoes

Of course, it wasn’t all clearing. We dug into two rows of potatoes as well and were rewarded with a full wheelbarrow load. They’ve done brilliantly this year, and that’s no small thing considering the drought we’ve had. It just goes to show the resilience of potatoes if they’re given half a chance.

What struck me most was how clean they were. Not a bit of slug damage on them, which is a rare blessing. For years now, I’ve sworn by adding soot into the planting holes, an old trick that seems to work wonders. I don’t know the exact science behind it, but I reckon it deters the slugs and gives the soil a bit of extra something. Old-fashioned methods often get written off in favour of new products and fancy treatments, but sometimes the old ways are the best ways. This year’s harvest is proof enough for me.

Standing there with a barrow full of fresh, clean potatoes, I felt a real sense of pride. These are the small victories that make the allotment worthwhile. A drought year, slug pressure always lurking, and yet here we are with a good crop to see us through.

Saturday Baking Day

Now, the allotment is one side of my week. The other, just as important in its own way, is baking. Saturday morning is now firmly established as my “baking day,” and I’ve thrown myself into it with the same sort of seriousness I give to gardening.

I’m not a trained baker by any stretch of the imagination — “self-taught” is a very generous way of putting it, and I’ll admit I use that word loosely, with a chuckle. But once I start mixing dough on a Saturday morning, I get into a rhythm. There’s a craft to it, and the more I practice, the more I want to get it right.

This week was a big one. By the time the oven cooled, I’d baked about 30 cobs, 10 mini loaves, a full loaf in the Pullman’s tin, and — just for good measure — 16 small teacakes. That’s a fair old production line for one kitchen, and the smell in the house was heavenly.

It might sound like hard work, but truth be told, I love it. There’s a sense of achievement in lining up all those finished loaves, knowing we’ll have enough bread to see us through the week. It’s not just about saving a few quid, though it certainly helps. It’s about knowing exactly what’s gone into the bread we’re eating, taking pride in doing it ourselves, and enjoying the process along the way.

Bread is one of those things you can make as simple or as complicated as you like. Some people spend hours with intricate sourdough starters and endless folding techniques, and while I admire that, I’m happy to keep things straightforward but well done. A good cob, a neat little mini loaf, or a tin-baked Pullman — that’s the kind of baking that works for us as a family.

Work and Reward

When I look back over the week, what strikes me is how these two worlds — the allotment and the kitchen — tie together. Clearing the ground, making compost, harvesting potatoes, mixing dough, baking loaves — they’re all part of the same rhythm of work and reward. One feeds into the other, literally and figuratively. The vegetables from the allotment fill the kitchen, and the bread from the oven makes the meals complete.

It’s not glamorous, and it’s certainly not easy at times. Clearing wet soil isn’t much fun, and kneading dough when your arms are already tired from digging takes a bit of grit. But there’s joy in it too. The laughter we share as we heap up mountains of marigolds. The satisfaction of a wheelbarrow full of clean spuds. The smell of freshly baked bread wafting through the house. These are the small pleasures that make all the effort worth it.

Looking Ahead

The allotments are far from finished for the year. There’s still ground to prepare, compost to turn, and more potatoes to lift. If the weather holds, I’ll get back on with the cultivator hoe and finish breaking up those patches I left too wet to touch. The compost heaps will keep growing, and with them, the promise of fertility for next spring.

On the baking front, I’ve no doubt next Saturday will see me mixing dough again. Maybe I’ll try another batch of teacakes, or perhaps I’ll have a go at something new. Either way, I’ll approach it with the same mix of seriousness and humour that keeps me going. After all, life’s too short not to enjoy the process, even when you’re covered in flour or mud.

Final Thoughts

Three trips to the allotment, a barrow of potatoes, compost piles ready to grow, and shelves stacked with homemade bread — it’s been a busy week, but a good one. These are the things that make life feel full: working with your hands, producing something useful, and sharing the results with family. Whether it’s a spud on the plate or a cob of bread on the table, it all comes back to the same principle — putting in the work, enjoying the process, and taking pride in the results.