A month on from deep midwinter. Slowly closing in on spring. Daylight is already more than half an hour longer. There will soon be stirring on the allotment.
The Japanese frilled mustard leaves survive. Battered beet stems show crimson against the frosted soil. Shards of ice shape like plant impressions.
Howard and I are here to tidy and to prepare for spring and summer. The temperature is stubborn. Barely nudging 2C. We persuade ourselves it is better than tomorrow’s forecast for near-freezing rain. The gloom too is coming quickly.
There is winter work to be done. Clearing ghostly nasturtium vines. Their last few flowers wilted. Squash stems are collapsed in the bitter cold. Tall verbena stalks are succumbing to the ice. The giant fennel is ghostlike in the gloom. Seedheads stark.
Howard and I feed off each other’s energy. We work in short bursts. We gather the pea and bean sticks. Bundle them for spring. The plot is returning to a near horizontal plane. We hoe and pull armfuls of old growth. We cart a few loads to the communal compost. A wilted war zone of faded summer. Hopes rested for a few more months.
The site is dormant. Empty of other gardeners now. Just an occasional neighbour, perhaps checking in on their onions, garlic and shallots. A marrow left on the edge of a plot is battered by frost. The birds too are subdued.
We wheelbarrow away. Within an hour or two our work is mostly done. We don’t want it too tidy. We scatter the manure. Roughly spread it around. We’ll leave it as a blanket on the surface for now. Dig it into the sandy soil in brighter, warmer weather.
The narcissi and Dutch Master daffodils have started to stir. Soon there will be corners of golden colour. Readying for spring.
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