Allotment activity slows as the clocks go back | Allan Jenkins

The last of summer’s bounty is destined for a harvest feast, signalling the beginning of a time of rest for Plot 29

Halloween marked the end of allotment one, where we first grew together and saved a scrappy piece of land. We dug in four tonnes of topsoil and two lorry-loads of cow manure. We dug out skipfulls of bricks and glass and wire. We unearthed a bomb shelter and the asbestos that came with it. But, oh, she grew, our first plot of land. Unleashed, awakened, alive at last, as though waiting to be loved.

We learned to sow and grow there. We learned to care for quiet things. How to nurture nature, to feed soil to feed yourself. Then, when our first fruitful summer was over, we had a Halloween party. We lined the path with pumpkins, the kids dressed up, Claire Ptak made ghost cakes, and we handed the allotment back, healed, to its also-recovered owner.

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