I have pined for the plot. Like a lost love affair. I have been injured, exiled for too many weeks. Separated, sitting, lying, fretting. Wondering how it grows. What’s happened with the seedlings? Will there be autumn or winter leaves to eat? Who’ll help protect it from predators now I am not around?
Finally, one Saturday morning, I hobble to the door – I have been living on an upper floor like Rapunzel. Howard and Otto (his terrier) pick me up. Ferry me to the allotment gate. I stumble down the path on crutches, turn the corner and there she is.
The plot’s perhaps a little ragged around the edges (or am I talking about myself?) Some of the tall sunflowers are fallen. Skeletal, gone to seed, ready for the birds
Snails have swarmed the marigolds. Bittercress abounds. Broadcast everywhere. But the mustard has survived. Some of the baby chard, too. A few of the tagetes are hanging on. The calendula’s mostly over. The nasturtium bank is colourful, tendrils snaking out. A last hurrah before the frost.
The squash is a revelation. Two huge heads cradled around a tipi. Meals for families of four or more. Howard takes the larger. I am hoping he will take photographs.
I can’t weed or work. The crutches would sink into the earth and I am not keen on falling over. But the boot fitting is not too far off. Steady progress, slow but sure.
We do some deadheading, pick a few late flowers. Howard wheelbarrows corpses to the compost. The sunflowers still standing we will leave for wildlife. My shoulders ache as we walk up the slope. But my head and heart is lighter. Like visiting an old friend.
Allan Jenkins’s Plot 29 (4th Estate, £9.99) is out now. Order it for £8.49 from guardianbookshop.com
