My name is Allan. I am an addict. I can’t stop scoring seed. It’s as if the joy is in the collecting not the sowing and growing (though I love to do that, too). Every spring, around now, I sort seed, gather the packets into groups, into leafy crops and flowers, assorted fruits and roots.
There will be multiple versions of the same packets, many from the same supplier. I also suffer from seed amnesia, groundhog days of growing. I tell myself it’s about supporting small producers, though I will always save seed, too.
I divide leaf crops into four families: salads, herbs, bitter chicories, leaves for cooking: pak chois, spinaches, chards and kales. The fruit collection will include climbing beans, peas, corn, courgettes and summer squash.
Roots are more restrained: mostly radishes, beetroots and a new obsession with turnips (to be eaten raw and wafer-thin, the leaves lightly steamed and dressed with olive oil). Flowers are always old-school: pot marigolds and nasturtiums for colour and companion planting, plus grandiflora sweetpeas for scent.
By mid-March, the manure has been spread, the plot soil well hoed, the broad beans have come through. Some early calendula are already sown. Next in line: speedy rockets and radish. I will consult the Maria Thun biodynamic planting calendar (it’s easy now it’s an app, though the booklet’s best if it’s new to you). I’ll pack my pockets with appropriate seed and string.
Then I’ll water the baby plants and watch over them. I’ll weed and thin out the leaves (I always over-sow). I will feast on home-grown salads, summer beets and beans, eat peas from the pod. I’ll keep a jar of my marigolds on the kitchen table. The most beautiful plants, of course, I will simply love and leave to seed.
Morning by Allan Jenkins is published by 4th Estate on 22 March at £12.99. To order a copy for £11.04, go to guardianbookshop.com
