Nick Routledge's Mexican marigolds still shining strong on the plot in November
We have become sadhus of seed. We made a decision when we handed plot 28 back to Ruth that we would take nothing from there. It wasn't easy - there are gorgeous rows of gulag star winter salad kales all curly, pert and proud, saturated with autumn light and life. So, too, the purple sprouting, the endive, the turnips, the autumn gold carrots, the over-wintering cilantro and most seductive of all the Chinese radish (I sneaked a hot and crisp couple the other day).
But any initial thought we might at least transplant the thinnings have been laid to rest. Somehow in a way I haven't fully processed it has been important to start clean, fresh, without 'divorce' baggage (I try not to think too much about the huge pile of Roger Pauli cowmuck fully prepped and ripening at the end of the old plot...). So our well-laid winter plans have been postponed for a year and we will green manure the new site instead... Hungarian rye and annual ryegrass supplemented with crimson clover and trefoil (though we might be too late for these last two?) and Fern Verrow Jane is sharing some of her field beans...
It won't of course stop us crossing the path to look at plot 28 and thinking of what might have been, but we stand naked before our new plot with only our energy and a few saved Cherokee seed beans and tagetes seeds (the flowers above were picked this weekend when we harvested some of Nick Routledge's beautiful Mexican marigold mix and a precious few dead heads of tagetes fire king). Even a sadhu has to start somewhere...
