During Friday lunchtime I compiled a list of the jobs I was going to undertake during the weekend and emailed it to H. H emailed a back that I only had 48 hours this weekend. The thing is I did not believe the weather forecast. Everyone in the UK gets excited at the prospect of snow. Mainly because we have not, as a nation, sussed out how to deal with it. My decision was to ignore it. I got up Saturday to a bright , sunny morning. I was was on poo trailer duty so disappeared at 08.45 to get the trailer and tip the contents at the lottie. Steve and I have decided to extend the "Community Orchard" along the southern perimeter of the drive so we are tipping the hot horse manure in a bund. When the horse muck has mellowed we can plant some more trees. We have eight assorted fruit trees in already.
Next up was a trip to the Newall potato men. Pete, the Secretary, rang me during the week to say my main crop seed potatoes had turned up. I needed some grow bags for my tomatoes so I figured I would save a trip and get spuds and bags in one trip. Instead of change I bought a few extra seed trays to round the buying up to a ten pound note. I popped home first to drop off my goodies and then went to Ivanhoe Feeds at Boundary. Boundary is a hamlet.
On the way to Ivanhoe Feeds for a spade I spotted H on way home from a walk. I asked if she fancied a lift. She decided to accept the lift even though I was not going straight home. I have not had a proper spade for years. I usually prefer a narrow trenching spade for digging. A small spade is like riding a bike in a low gear. The work is easy but you have to pedal faster to cover the same distance. I find it easier on my lower back. However I have rather a special job to do. The second quarter of my Pea bed has over wintered under Clover as a green manure. It has over wintered nicely but has now gone berserk. It is time to dig it in but my usual spade makes the work hard. I gave up after less than half a row. Ivanhoe Feeds do gardening equipment as well as horse nosh. They had two makes of spades, cheap carbon steel blades with plastic handles in two sizes and Stainless Steel blades with one piece wooden handles, again in two sizes. The carbon steel spades were 40% cheaper than the stainless ones but the stainless ones had a razor sharp edge. I figured the one piece handle might last longer than the two piece. I took a deep breath and handed over the cash for the stainless spade.
I had to nip home to drop H off and change into my lottie clothes plus have a snack. All that done I went to the lottie with the new tool bent on subjugation of the Clover patch. I took up position behind the spade, on the Clover, facing the broad beans planted last week. I stabbed the spade into the soil [and Clover] and right angels to what farmers call the plough headland, i.e the edge of the soil where the plough last cut which creates the line between the cultivated and the uncultivated ground. The blade cut into the soil about two inches but more importantly cut through the matted roots of the Clover. Next I put the spade into the ground about six inches back from the plough headland and stepped on the spade shoulder. With no effort it disappeared to the full spit depth. I leaned the handle back and levered a plug of soil plus Clover from the ground and deftly, if I say so myself, dropped the plug back into the hole from which it came but completely upside down thereby burying the Clover nine inches under the surface of the soil. The moisture in the soil was just right for digging. I started off slowly and rhythmically. Within an hour and a half I had turned over the whole of the area, something like twelve square metres. Flipping good going. More than once the breeze built and the sky went black followed by a huge snow or hail shower rolling across the plots. The hail was the size of peas. I jumped in my car for shelter. I called Sue, another fool like me digging regardless of the weather, to shelter with me. Sue had been trying to ignore the hail but it stung like mad. We chatted a little over the drumming of the hail on the roof of the motor. Ten minutes later it was all over and we resumed our self appointed tasks . I dropped six barrow loads of manure on the newly dug area. After all it going to house my legumes so it needs feeding.
Barrowing done I weeded the Asparagus bed until a heavy shower turned into something more persistent and forced me home. There was not much sign a last year's Asparagus however I received my new crowns in the post on Thursday. I shall be eating Pacific Blue Asparagus in a couple of years time. On returnig home I went to the greenhouse. I positioned the grow bags in readiness for the Tomatoes. Given they are only an inch high transplanting wont be anytime soon. I filled the remaining trays and pots and watered them ready for a seed planting session later in the week. The vines were inspected again. The ones I thought were dead are starting to wake up, at last. I tidied up the Greenhouse, watered everything and washed the floor. H dropped a surprise lesson in pottering on me. So off to Ashby for a potter and a newspaper.
H pulled me up sharp because as I left the car park I was making a beeline for the garden shop for labels for my seed trays. H made me look in all the shops on the wrong side of Market Street, pass the time of day with the shopkeepers of our acquaintance and only on the return trip down the other side of the street was I able to get the labels. Then I was dragged across town to the Library. A result here. I got a book about Jack Hargreaves, an influence from my early TV years, and one about cooking by TV gardener Bob Flowerdew. Bob is a bit pretentious but he has some good ideas. I scanned his glossy coffee table offering. It is all fluff. It will be going back on Monday. This kind of pottering is over rated.
Not a bad day, pottering excluded. Over tea [Northern meal time not the drink] H ask me if I thought it would snow, as predicted by the TV weathermen. I said it was unlikely since there was not a cloud in the sky. I should have known better......Sunday dawned, predictably it had snowed over night, deep, wet and even. The snow scuppered my plans for the day. A new plan was needed. First idea, a good breakfast. H was in bed so I knocked up a full English but since I did not have all the ingredients I just had eggs [sunny side up], bacon crispy and a tomato [caramelised on the cut face] and glory of glories Fried bread cooked in lard. I have some lard from Pig fettling at Christmas. Add a steaming mug of tea and some brown sauce and you are in heaven. My buddy gave me some allotment related books on the Thursday. The first one "A view from a shed by Michael Wale" was devoured by Friday bedtime. The second "One Woman's Allotment" was polished off by Sunday teatime. I was glad to finish that one. The author really irritated me. Her friend, who does not get a name check, is more the article but I digress, I enjoyed my breakfast despite the that Women's Allotment. H came down and had a spot of breakfast. Whilst we looked out at the snow covered garden H asked what I was going to do for the day. Allotmenting was obviously curtailed. Before I realised what I was saying I asked if she wanted to go for a walk. H had the presence of mind to say "yes" before I could change the tone of the offer. Resigned, I got the boots out and got ready. H came down with her high tech walking gear on. I was still in my jeans and shirt. It was going to one of those walks, conducted in double time. "We" decided to take in the allotment in a wide circular walk. The day was bright and warm once out of the biting wind. So clear in fact there one could easily see the tall buildings of Birmingham on the distant horizon. We found a extension to the walk that took us by the new land fill...very picturesque. We had a look round the plots and my own. I figured I could be digging but I was committed to the ramble. H pressed her advantage home by suggesting we take in the Moira Furness. It was a bit further but we could have for tea and cake at the cafe. It was odd sitting in their courtyard with tea and cake [home made Cofffe and Walnut], protected from the wind and in the sunshine but with flakes of snow swirling about on a zephyr as the stiff breeze blew over the roof tops. We supped up and zipped up and set off for home. We went along the tram way and came out near the house with the Jack Russell's. They came charging out barking for all they where worth. I coughed very loudly which checked the dogs. They looked up and decided that we should not die today. As meek as lambs they trotted up to us a insisted on being stroked. I gave the usually brief and rough but friendly version. H gave them the full fat version including the talking to them as if they were toddlers. We were only a mile from home so we just set off up the main road. We commented on every house we saw and most fool drivers, no shortage of them today, until we were back on our estate.
It was only four o'clock so I decided that could probably sort out the shelf under the sink. More correctly, to put a shelf under the sink. I had all the necessary wood, screws and tools. A hour and half later the job was done, well except for a tricky panel at the very back. That needs more thinking about. Yet more tea. I sat down to make a concerted effort to finish the "Woman's Allotment". I did it and good riddance to her and Plots 64 and 70.
All in all a nice busy weekend. Major Brownies point scored in several different areas and a few additional jobs done to boot.
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