A Strange Day Clearing the Fruit Cage

 

The fruit cage is the last tidy up job that I do each year. It’s relatively easy but this year I found I had to first pick the last of the raspberries. Mid November and half a large yogurt pot of raspberries wanting to be picked! Maybe I tidied up a bit earlier in other years and so missed this last few, or maybe the mild weather has just tricked them into giving up a few more this year. Irrespective, they will top up the bowl of rhubarb crumble and custard tonight.

The cage itself had a major refit this year so both the netting and stakes in good order and only a couple of supports required a bit of gaffer tape.

It’s strange you weed and fork over any part of your plot and if on cue you get the wildlife that comes not to watch, but to sit like vultures and hunt down exposed worms and food. Robin always has a sixth sense of when soil is being broken and turned and food is exposed. He appears from nowhere. Often the next day the plot of turned soil is covered with little footprints from Freddie Fox and his gang, who either like dancing on the soft soil at midnight, or just want to examine your work. Sometimes they dig a little hole, just to check your work and how far down you have gone. So there is not only no dig and dig but also Fox dig.

I am awoken from my thoughts by, ’What do you think you are doing?’ It comes over my should as I am on my hands and knees weeding and forking the soil.

I turn and behind me are not one but a small troop of squirrels standing on their hindlegs, arms folded across their chest and staring at me with those little black eyes.

I reply, ‘what’s it to do with you? Which I thought was a responsible question to ask.

‘What’s it to do with us?’ exclaimed the big one at the front immediately. The others were clearly egging him on.

‘Iam just tidying up the plot for Winter.’ I reply.

‘You are disturbing all our hiding places,’ comes the response. ‘We love this area as it is free from that squadron of pigeons, is hardly disturbed and Freddie Fox and his gang can’t get in. It’s our larder cupboard and a bolt hole.’

I felt guilty for one minute and then remember that so far I haven’t seen any sunflower heads or stashes of hidden food or even signs of any. The second squirrel at that point starts to dig in the soil as if he is in search of a pot of gold, but on finding nothing lets out a audible tut and goes over and whispers into the leader’s ear.

‘Look we know we buried a load of your sunflower seeds here and they have gone,’ the leader declares.

‘Are you sure?’ I ask.

I remember squirrels have a ‘spread betting’ way of hiding food all over and forgetting where they put it, but safe in the knowledge that they will find some. The squirrels go into a huddle, arms around each other’s shoulders like a team about to go into extra time and listening to their captain’s words of wisdom.

Next minute one by one they scamper off and start to disappear their bushy tails going under the netting by the tree.

‘Ok we may have got the location wrong this time, but if you come across a pile of sunflowers seeds or the odd flowerhead can you mark it with a stick?’ the leader asks rather meekly.

Before I could answer he too has gone and his bushy tail scoots under the netting.

I look over towards Lottie, but remember he didn’t want to come today and complained it was too cold to sit out on the bench. Even with a dog bed and blanket whippets can be nesh. It’s a good job really as she may not be happy seeing me talking to her arch enemy the squirrels and especially whilst she would have been tied up and unable to chase them.

Time to go home and have those raspberries and leave the netting as is so they can enjoy the fruit cage and keep digging for food and turning the soil over for me.

Getting the Right Amount of Produce at the Right Time

Kneeling down even with my little cushion can be hard, but the weeding must be done and I love to see the plot looking tidy and free of weeds. I look over to the bench and because it’s a windy cold snap Lottie is snuggled down, curled up and having a nap.

I return to the weeds between the rocket and the lettuce. There’s not many weeds so it is easy and a gentle hand fork down the space between the rows is all that is needed.

‘Are you going to do round the mange tout?’ I hear in my ear.

I look around and there perched of the end of the scaffold board walkway stands Robin my red-breasted friend.

‘I’ll do it next,’ I offer with my head down focused on my current area.

‘You’ve grown far too much of that stuff,’ declares Robin pointing his right wing towards the lettuce.

‘I know what I’m doing.’

‘Of course you do. Mind, you could feed an army on what you have grown there.’ Robin offers with a sarcastic smirk across his beak.

I look at the tight tidy rows of lettuce, red and green salad bowl and lolla rossa grown from seeds I bought back from Spain, wild rocket and more. I better not admit it to Robin, but I did sow a bit too much. However, the recent weather has been hot and we were eating salad on our balcony every day. Now the weather has once again changed and we are back to the vegetables and inside. The lettuce is disappointed to be left waiting to mix it with the others in the salad spin washer and the cucumbers are starting too mount up to but they can always be used in drinks. Lottie will not eat salad and will peck it out and spit it onto the floor.

Judging how much to grow is an art form. It’s not just about getting the sowing right, bringing them on, judging the weather and hoping it all comes together correctly. The right amount of anything is probably the biggest challenge and then there is succession sowing to ensure that you don’t have salad for just a couple of weeks in summer when it’s raining and cold.

Storing, bottling and freezing excess can be a challenge not just of how but with space. We have only just finished last year’s tomatoes and beans out the freezer. I like squash best. They can just sit there doing nothing and waiting literally months for you to decide to cook them. If only others could follow their example.

We as an allotment have started to collect any excess produce and donate it to a local community kitchen run by the farm. It can be difficult to even donate food this way as those receiving it need to understand how to cook or prepare it and even want it. It must be fresh and used fresh. I would think in today’s climate and with the demand on food banks, charity kitchens etc that donating it would be easy, but it is far from it. WE are not allowed to sell or give it to commercial organisations such as restaurants and it is primarily for family only.

‘Have you finished yet only I’ve a family to feed?’ Robin asks impatiently.

‘In a minute.’

I get up stretch, pick up my bucket half full of weeds, fork and kneeling cushion and move over to the mange tout.

I can almost hear Robin salivating at the thought of fresh grubs.

‘Can’t you put mulch around all the plants? It encourages my food.’ Robin says as he starts to follow me along the rows. He stops, cocks his head to listen and then with the precision of a heron fishing, swoops his beak into the ground and then pulls out a grub. Next minute he is gone and moments later returns to repeat the process. It’s like a drive-through food bar for him.

I look at the Mange Tout and think at least these can go with salad, be steamed or thrown in a stir-fry or curry. Why can’t more be like that?

Perhaps I need to grow less of more and not get sucked into mass sowing and potting on exercises. Mind you this year I am looking after my neighbour Anna’s plot whilst she is in isolation and guess what, I know there are too many spuds, courgettes, and squash. I can only hope she comes back soon as I don’t have space for this harvest.

‘Stop daydreaming and lets get over to that bean area now,’ demands a hungry Robin.