I love looking at pictures of other people's allotments. I just think they look so interesting and in the height of summer, so beautiful.
I love the higgledy-piggledyness of them, the recycling of materials like carpets, plastic bottles and CD's. I'm not so into the completely neat and full of obviously bought-for-the-job kind of plots but give me even those over a flowery garden any time.
So here is my plot:
Unfortunately I only have a half-sized one. I am hoping (I whisper so Hubby doesn't hear) that I might be able to graduate to a full size plot in a few years. There are nine plots, some of them divided like mine, on our village site.
When motivation is lacking, usually all of the time, I should remember how lovely it is up there. Peaceful, full of wildlife, backed by woods and with it's own microclimate. No matter how grumpy I am when I set off I always come back in a better mood.
Mine is the only plot which is totally made up of raised beds. When we took it over five years ago (I think) the Hubby thought that would be the best and easiest way forward for me. I have to admit to being slightly reluctant, the plot just seemed smaller somehow, but it is definitely easier.
Just out of shot is my full width cutting garden bed. I have to admit this has been sorely neglected and while the daffs loyally appear every spring, the tulips have largely deserted me in a huff. I also need to grow some cut-and-come-again flowers. I have an idea to halve it, create a small walkway onto the plot framed with a home-made wooden arch smothered, of course, in sweet peas.
I rotate the crops in all the beds except one, which is divided into three for the oldest children. At the back is our monster rhubarb, next to which is the digging pit created by the oldest but now especially left for the younger two children.
Next to the rhubarb is my strawberry patch, again rather neglected and in need of an overhaul. Behind that bed, at the end are my raspberry canes and redcurrant bush. I need to rethink this area too, so that this year we might enjoy the fruit instead of the birds.
I am sure I am the worst type of allotment gardener; the plot was sorely neglected last year and we have had other fallow years thanks to pregnancy and babies. My youngest always screamed when he was tiny in the pram at the allotment (hopefully not a sign of things to come, I remember worrying) and last year, well, I'm not sure what happened last year. Now though, I'm back with renewed vigor. Nothing is going to stop me (except perhaps my lack of gardening skill...).