Allotment Rules...

and if you can't beat them...

Because our paths are quite narrow, any construction has to be 9" inside our own plots to enable wheelbarrows etc to move freely and safely around. This takes valuable growing space, created a ridiculous shady passage on my plot and my chest looked stranded. And then an offer for convallaria majalis (lilies of the valley) plopped into my inbox. The obvious spot. I ordered 9, stuffed them in with a pile of organic matter, gave them a good water and they are already filling out and hopefully on the march.

Frost in May

I gave myself until the Chelsea Flower Show to get my new plot in order. But disaster has struck and I've extended the date to our allotments Open Day in support of the London Open Garden Squares Weekend on June 12. How much have I written or banged on about a few warm days in May does not meaning it's summer? How well did I know that I was putting my beans out A BIT EARLY. But hey, we're in a city, protected by buildings, global warming and the balcony needed space to start off annuals. After all, I'd done my bit with bandages and fleece (see previous blog post). But this May frost took no hostages. It struck pockets of our allotments cruelly. The rest is in the picture. Two plots away, my friend F, has a full line of French beans unscathed and I'm delighted. 6 plots away there's a field of limp, brown, frost-burnt potato foliage. As for me, I've lost every one of my French and Runner beans. Potatoes are hit, but will probably recover.

There are good reasons for the old phrases such as "N'er cast a clout 'til May is out".

Beanstick fracture

Last summer the stem of a neighbour's sunflower broke. He bound it and it went on to grow a full 8' and produce a beautiful flowerhead. At the end of the summer he took the bandage off to find lumpy scar tissue, but a fully-healed stem.

There have already been accidents for me this year. First I skidded on an overgrown path, flew through the air twisting my ankle as I went and landed yelping in pain. It is only thanks to multi-tasking my fork and spade into crutches that I am not still stranded there. Never again will I mock inspection committees and their threatening "lose your plot" cards. Well-kept allotments are safe allotments.

Next, I carelessly knocked a bean seedling, badly bruising the stem and

causing it to flop. Remembering the sunflower, I cut up a bit of thick filter paper (from my vacuum cleaner), stapled it round stake and stem allowing just enough room for the stem to fill out. Within days the leaves opened and it seemed strong enough to put out, with the bandage slightly loosened.

Then the temperature dropped, a treacherous wind whipped across the allotments, so emergency measures with fleece have been taken. Forget nurture or nature - we're talking full-time nurturing nature here!

Get grounded at the allotments

It's impossible to avoid a certain election fever, but worrying about putting my climbing beans out too early (again), I hurried down to protect them from the cold this evening. L, my Portuguese plot neighbour, passed by. "Beautiful," he said as I created a fleece wall around them. "Here, Jo-waanna, have some of my Portuguese onions - they're bigger, better...my mother sent them to me...you must plant them soon." As I hurried back to my house guests, I bumped into L, my Greek allotment friend. "Joanne!" she exclaimed, throwing open her arms and kissing me on both cheeks before pushing me away. "You must go," she observed. "You are in a hurry." I left - via one of the many lilac trees that surround our plots - reminded of real life, of the generosity, diversity and companionship of allotments.

Dug in to labelling

I've tried labelling my plants before - used the wrong pen or pencil, eyesore labels or too small and they've disappeared. Given up. And then regretted not being able to identify the successes. Yesterday, browsing in the irresistible Garden Museum shop, I discovered handsome black garden labels which I bought as a present for a friend but within hours was using for my own plot! This is it. Smart, big, re-usable and the white marker claims my script will be "permanent until removed with white spirit".

Thigmomorphogenesis

Last year I put my climbing beans out too early and they froze... almost literally. With the health of my broad beans already precarious, I'm being cautious with all seedlings this year. A few warm days doesn't mean it's summer. Seedlings have taken over every window ledge, being hardened off on the balcony by day, inside by night.

I first read about Thigmomorphogenesis in Emma Cooper's The Alternative Kitchen Garden A-Z. It's the principle that plants grow differently when not exposed to the wind. So, if your seedlings can't be put out, blow on them and brush your fingers through them. It'll help them become stronger and stockier before they face the outside world.

Let Nature Take Its Course

The broad beans, sown in three stages for a lengthy crop, looked so promising. Then their leaves took on a new scalloped appearance. The diagnosis: Bean Weevil. I acted in haste. A too strong solution of washing up liquid was sprayed liberally, mid-day. Out burst the sun. The combination of burning rays and not diluting the solution properly severely scorched the leaves, damaging them more than the weevils would probably ever have. If you want to spray, wait until the cool of the evening, or do so in very early morning - it's also kinder to pollinators such as bees and butterflies who will be hard at work during the daytime. Without pollinators we could starve...