Gravel, Drought, Onions and the Three of Us Against the World

 Right then. Another week gone. Blink and you'll miss it, that's what I always say, and this week has absolutely proven the point. We've been busy though — properly busy — and there's plenty to talk about so let's get straight into it.

Now before I start, I want to say something about how we operate up at the plots, because a few people have asked about it over the weeks and I think it's worth explaining properly. The three of us — me, Sam and Iris — we don't just turn up and wander about wondering what to do. That's not how it works. The night before we go up, we sit down — or there's a messages flying about on the phones — and we decide what's happening the following day. Who's doing what, what needs doing first, what order we're tackling things in. It sounds very organised and that's because it is very organised. And here's the thing — because we've got three pairs of hands and an actual plan, we are very rarely at those plots for more than an hour and a half. An hour and a half, three of us, and we get a staggering amount done. I know some people spend entire days up there and come home looking like they've been in a minor war. Not us. In, graft, done, home. I'm not saying we cut corners. I'm saying we cut through them. There's a difference.

The Great Watering Mission

This week's main theme, if I'm being honest with you, has been water. Or rather the absolute and total lack of it falling from the sky in any useful quantity. We are in a proper little drought at the minute. I don't know if you've noticed, but the ground is not just dry — it's the kind of dry that makes you wonder if you imagined rain. You touch the soil and it practically turns to dust in your hand. Everything is gasping.

So we've been cracking on with the watering this week — getting around everything we've got growing and making sure it's all getting a proper drink. Now that is not a five minute job when you've got two plots with crops at various stages across both of them. It takes a bit of doing. But it's one of those jobs where you genuinely cannot cut corners, because if you do, the plants will tell you about it, and not in a polite way. You don't get a little note. You just come back a few days later to find something wilting at you in a very reproachful fashion.

The three of us working through it together makes a massive difference. Sam tackles one section, Iris another, I'm on something else, and before you know it the whole thing's been seen to. One person doing that alone would be there all morning. Three people doing it? Done before most people have finished their second cup of tea. I love this team, I really do.

Plot Two — The Digging Is Done

Now I mentioned last week that we were having to go into plot two the old fashioned way, with a fork, by hand, turning it over properly because the ground was too dry and compacted to even think about the rotavator. You can't just chuck a rotavator at concrete and expect it to produce a fine tilth. It doesn't work like that. It bounces. It makes a noise like something from a disaster film. And at the end of it you've got exactly what you started with but louder.

So we went in with forks. Proper work. Turning it over, breaking it up, getting some air back into it. And this week I'm very pleased to report — we've finished. Plot two has been dug over in full. Both plots now have had that treatment and can breathe again. Soil needs air, just like we do, and when it's been compacted and baked dry it's essentially been holding its breath for weeks. Now it's not. Now it can get itself together, settle a bit, and we can go over it with the Mantis tiller and get it into proper shape for planting. I'm looking forward to that. I genuinely am. There is something immensely satisfying about standing and looking at a plot that's been properly turned over. It looks like a plot that means business. You can practically hear it saying "right, what are we growing then?"

The Onions — And a Slightly Yellow Situation

Now. The overwintering onions. Let's talk about those.

They are coming on, and considering the absolute pasting they've had from the dry weather over the last few weeks, I think they're doing remarkably well. There's been nowhere near enough rain and we've been trying to make up for it with the watering, but you're always fighting an uphill battle when it's as dry as this. Watering cans are brilliant. They are not the sky. There is a limit to what you can replicate.

The thing is — the tips have gone yellow. Now I know what some of you will be thinking and yes, I thought it too for approximately five seconds before I told myself to calm down. Yellow tips on onions in dry conditions are not automatically a death sentence. They are the onion's way of telling you it's been thirsty and it's not entirely thrilled about that. Fair enough really. I can't argue with it. I'd go a bit yellow myself if I hadn't had a drink in three weeks.

The plan is straightforward — keep the watering going, keep giving them what they need, and trust that the minute it decides to actually rain in this country like it normally does for eleven months of the year, they'll get their colour back and carry on as if nothing happened. I am hopeful. I am an optimist by nature. That's what allotmenteering does to you — you either develop hope or you develop despair, and despair has never grown anything worth eating.

I'm keeping my eye on them. They know I'm watching.

The Gravel — Oh, The Gravel

Right. Now this is the bit of the week I've been looking forward to telling you about, because it's one of those things that makes you stand back and feel genuinely chuffed.

Wednesday. The gravel arrived. Now I'd been waiting on this delivery because the plan — the grand plan that's been forming in my head for a good while now — is to get a proper gravel base down around the back and around the greenhouse. Practical, smart, looks the part, keeps the mud down. All good reasons. Excellent reasons. The sort of reasons that make you feel like a person with a considered and sensible approach to plot management.

The delivery came, and within — I kid you not — forty five minutes, the four of us had shifted the lot around the back and laid it down on the floor around the greenhouse. Forty five minutes. There was a small mountain of gravel sitting there on Wednesday morning and by the time we were done it had transformed into something that actually looks like it belongs there.

And it does look nice. I'll be honest with you, it looks better than I thought it would and I already thought it was going to look good. There's something about a neat gravel border that just tidies everything up and gives it a proper finished feel. The greenhouse is already looking smarter for it, and we have got a fair way to go yet — more to go down, more to spread, more to rake — but that first section is down and it has absolutely set the tone for how this is going to look when it's finished. I am very pleased.

Sam just looked at it for a minute when we'd done and said "that looks properly good, that." High praise from Sam. He's not a man who throws compliments about recklessly. When Sam says something looks properly good, it looks properly good.

Sara, for her part, had raked gravel more efficiently than anyone I've ever seen. She doesn't mess about, that girl. She never has. You give Iris a job and the job gets done. I don't know how she manages to look completely unbothered while simultaneously working faster than people twice her age, but she does it consistently and I've given up trying to understand it. I just appreciate it.

Looking Forward

So where are we? Both plots dug over. Watering under control. Onions hanging in there with cautious optimism. A very satisfying amount of gravel down and more to come. Three people, ninety minutes or less, and another good week put to bed.

Next week there's more to do — there always is. The rotavating can start now that the digging's finished, which I am very much looking forward to. The Mantis will earn its keep. The gravel continues. The greenhouse gets closer and closer to being the finished article. And somewhere out there the sky owes us rain — a lot of rain — and I am choosing to believe it will make good on that debt before too much longer.

Until then we keep watering. We keep going up. We keep planning the night before like the well-oiled machine we absolutely are.

Three of us against the world, and the world hasn't beaten us yet.

Until next time — keep digging.