coming up for air - Laying down roots

Sometimes, it's in the being - not the doing - where true growth happens

- Caro Giles

I spent yesterday afternoon at our allotment. I haven't been up there for a while I left it to hunker down over winter. I imagined the soil throbbing with anticipation and hedgehogs curled under the sycamore leaves that have dropped onto the ground. I tend to ignore this scrap of land for a month or two either side of Christmas: the days are short and I like to keep moving in the cold and chase big skies. During this absence, I often seem to make our allotment a problem, another job to do. It sits adjacent to a very impressive plot with neat trellises and paths made of tiny pieces of gravel that stay where they should. That allotment has vegetable beds with wooden borders and pots of ornamental roses. On summer evenings, our neighbours sit on the verandah in front of their beautifully painted shed and watch the sky burn.

When we were offered our allotment, which is just over the road and around the corner from our house, it was also an impressive plot. It had been cared for by a retired gentleman who was an excellent gardener. There were several large vegetable beds, masses of flowers, and endless carefully-pruned trees. When we first looked inside the shed we inherited, I found a map of the fruit trees, drawn carefully onto paper and labelled so that each one could be easily identified.