Failed Sweetcorn

Every year on the allotment teaches you something. Sometimes you’re rewarded with a bumper harvest that makes all the effort worth it, and other times you’re handed a lesson in what not to do. This week has been one of those “lesson learned” times, and it all centres around my sweetcorn.

I’ve grown sweetcorn plenty of times before, and when it goes right, there’s nothing better than picking a cob, stripping back the leaves, and eating those sweet golden kernels fresh from the plant. But this year, I let them go too far. I knew it as soon as I tried the age-old test – press a thumb nail into a kernel and look for that milky sap to ooze out. Instead of the tell-tale milk, I got… nothing. Hard as bullets.

The silks were already brown and dry, a sure sign they were past it, but sometimes you don’t want to believe what your eyes are telling you. I thought perhaps there was a chance we could still get something from them. Sara, ever the optimist, took a batch to the kitchen to see if they could be coaxed back into edibility with a good long boil. Well, the pot went on, the steam rose, and we waited. And waited. And waited. No matter how long those cobs stayed in the pan, they never softened. You could have boiled them for a week and they’d still have been like chewing marbles. In the end, we had to admit defeat. The sweetcorn was a total loss.

It’s disappointing, of course. You put in the work – sowing the seed, nurturing the plants, watching them grow tall – and then when it comes to harvest, you get nothing for the table. But that’s the way of gardening. Sometimes you win, sometimes you don’t, and you have to take the failures with a bit of humour. I joked that maybe we’d grown a variety of “tooth-breaker corn” or “concrete kernels” this year. Not one for the catalogue!

Once we accepted that the sweetcorn was beyond saving, we turned our minds to the next job. There’s no point letting past-it crops linger on the plot – they just take up space and sap the soil. So, we made the decision to do a proper clear out and give another big chunk of the allotment a fresh start. Out came all the sweetcorn, stalks and roots and all. It’s always a bit of a wrench pulling them up when you know how much care went into getting them that far, but it was also strangely satisfying. It felt like tidying up after a long party that had gone on a bit too long.

And once you get started on a clear out, it’s hard to stop. We looked around and realised the courgettes had done their dash. They’d given us more fruit than we could eat earlier in the season, but now they were tired, scraggly plants producing nothing much of value. The cucumbers had gone the same way, and the squashes too. So, up they all came. By the time we’d finished, we had a good pile of green waste stacking up nicely – the beginnings of another big heap destined for the compost bins.

But the real stars of the show were the beetroot. Now, normally I like my beetroot a decent size – big enough to cook with but not so big they turn woody. Well, these ones had clearly not read the script. We’d left them just that bit too long as well, and some had grown into absolute monsters. Iris had the time of her life trying to pull them up. Some were so firmly in the ground and so oversized that she had to heave and tug with both hands, leaning back with all her weight until they finally came free with a satisfying “pop.” We couldn’t help but laugh at the sight. It’s moments like that which make the allotment such a joy, even when things don’t go to plan.

The pile grew bigger and bigger – sweetcorn stalks, courgette plants, squash vines, and those comedy-sized beetroot – all waiting to be broken down and turned into rich compost. There’s something deeply satisfying about that cycle. What fails this year, or what goes past its best, doesn’t go to waste. It all goes back into the soil, feeding next year’s crops. In gardening, even the failures are an investment in the future.

Unfortunately, after all that clearing, the weather put a stop to anything else. It’s been such a wet week that there’s no chance of getting much done beyond the basics. The soil is claggy, the paths are slippery, and the tools get clogged after just a few minutes. We didn’t want to trample the ground into a muddy mess, so we left it there. Sometimes the weather makes the decision for you.

Still, it wasn’t a wasted week. We may not have come home with armfuls of produce, but we cleared a huge space, had a good laugh, and filled the compost bins. In its own way, that’s as important as harvesting a good crop. Keeping the allotment tidy, making space, and preparing for what comes next is all part of the cycle.

Looking ahead, I’ve made a mental note not to make the same mistake with sweetcorn next year. Timing is everything. You can’t just rely on appearance – you have to do the milk test regularly and harvest the cobs when they’re at their peak. Sweetcorn waits for no one, and leave it too long, and you end up with cattle feed rather than a plate of golden sweetness. Next year, I’ll be sharper, watching the silks closely and testing kernels more often. That’s the lesson learned.

And who knows? Maybe those giant beetroot will teach me to keep a closer eye on them too. It’s tempting sometimes to leave things a little longer, hoping they’ll grow bigger and better, but the truth is, bigger isn’t always better. Sometimes it just means tougher, woodier, and harder to cook. A steady hand, a watchful eye, and a bit more discipline – that’s what I’ll be aiming for next year.

For now, though, I’ll take comfort in the fact that the compost heap is growing nicely, the allotment looks tidier, and we’ve still got plenty else growing to keep us busy. Failures happen, but they don’t define the season. They’re just another chapter in the never-ending story of gardening.

So, while the sweetcorn didn’t make it to our plates, it’s already helping prepare the ground for next year. And in the meantime, we had a laugh, cleared some space, and came home muddy, damp, but satisfied. Not such a bad week after all.