‘Pfff.’
‘What’s that noise?’ asks Lottie
sitting up and alert after her little nap on the allotment bench.
‘What noise?’ I reply.
‘Pfff.’
‘That noise. Sounds like someone
spitting out something they don’t like, or a cat with a fur ball.’ Lottie says
staring over towards the back of the plot.
‘Pfff.’
‘There it is again!’
I get up off my kneeling pad and
stand and stretch. One must stretch after being on one’s hands and knees with a
trusted trowel weeding between the rows of lettuce and rocket. I never did
enjoy hoeing and rather selectively eject the weeds from the plot.
Lottie has now decided that she
has my attention and I will investigate for her. She drops back down onto her
pillows and day bed on the bench satisfied that she has performed her warden
duties. It’s hard being a faithful whippet at the allotments, as it involves disturbing
one’s sleep and being ever alert to keeping strange and unwanted guests off the
plots, and that is mainly Sidney Squirrel and that moggy cat with no name. She stretches
as all whippets do, closes her eyes and curls up and goes back to her nap.
‘Thanks,’ I mumble to myself as I
walk over to the back of the plot. There between the compost bins is our good
friend Robin. He is clearly unhappy and hops up to the top of the open bin and
stares down into the abyss.
‘I am very grateful you left the
lid off after topping it up but...’ The look in his eyes clearly indicates
something in there is not to his taste.
‘What’s wrong?’ I ask, adopting
my caring voice. I was thinking he probably didn’t like the orange peelings, or
maybe the cabbage leaves were….
‘Do I look like a café bird?’ he
asks puffing up his red breast to make the point.
‘Do you look…’ I could hardly get
my sentence out before he burst into a tirade about coffee, its foul tastes,
and why I wanted to spoil his fine dining with the stuff.
‘Sorry, we got three tons of coffee
grounds from Canary Wharf and I like to sprinkle some and mix it into the
compost to help break it down,’ I responded.
‘Even the slugs don’t like it!’
he exclaimed.
‘That’s the point’ I said.
‘Apparently cat’s don’t like it either’
I offered, wondering what his reaction would be to it being a deterrent to his nemesis
the moggy from the farm.
He stood thinking with his head
cocked to one side. It’s a thoughtful look he has before he finally offers ‘Well
it has to have some good points but Lottie is the best cat deterrent you have
here.’
Lottie looks up at the mention of
her name. Dog’s hearing is very good, and you don’t see any with hearing aids
now do you? She gets off the bench, shakes herself and goes to now have a nap
under the bench. She does this sometimes when she gets too hot on top, but
sometimes just for a change.
Robin and I return our attention
to the coffee grounds.
‘You’ll be sprinkling all over
the plot next,’ with a questioning look which begged a negative response.
‘Yes, I was going to…’
‘Do you want me as a friend and
fellow labourer, or not?’ Robin asked now, clearly demanding a coffee ground
ceasefire.
‘I can’t put it near the
seedlings as it can kill them off.’ Coffee grounds contain allelopathic properties
which attack young seedlings vying for space. You could argue that could help
suppress weed seedlings, but Ii doubt that Robin will accept that as a positive.
‘Surprise, surprise, someone’s
has got the message,’ Robin casually stated hopping down to the floor to wipe
his beak clean and take a sip on water from a bowl I leave for the birds.
I was going to tell him about the
Civet and how he makes the most expensive coffee in the world but thought as he
would never see one around here it would be a wasted story. Also it might upset
his sensitive feelings if he knew exactly how the process of making the coffee involved
collecting the Civet’s poo.
‘I tell you what. I will only put
it around the fruit in the fruit cage for now and maybe dig some in in autumn before
I put the plot to bed.’ I thought this was a reasonable compromise and looked
at him for approval. I don’t have blueberries and high acid loving plants so I
don’t need to give plants a caffeine boost.
‘We’ll see. I am not bothered
about the fruit cage as it is netted to keep out that squadron of pigeons and
frankly the fruit is a bit tart for me.’ He was certainly more relaxed now and
hopping around searching for some fresh food.
‘Mind you keep to that, though. I
don’t want my dinner spoiled’ he said looking over his shoulder.
‘Otherwise you’ll
be looking for a new plot-mate.’
He flies over to where I had been
weeding to examine the turned soil for some decaffeinated food.
Well, it looks like there will be
no espresso on the plot this year.
I wonder what he thinks to peppermint
tea leaves?
