Hello allotment, it feels like it’s been a long time…
What’s that? Oh right, yes it has. But hurrah, it’s gardening time again. And look at these potatoes in the allotment shop waving at us. Pick me, pick me…
So here’s a poem to all of us, peering at our allotments at this time of year and hoping the digging elves might have popped in to help us secretly over winter.
We rarely appear in winter,
although some have been spotted
like cat burglers reaching out
to pick up cold earth, sniffing it.
We know the seed catalogues backwards,
pictures of our ideal weedless plot –
vegetable heavy, dahlias and sunflowers
waving – hide somewhere in our hearts.
Through summer, we’ll greet each other
with seedlings, surplus tomatoes or shakes
of our heads. We have our own gods:
the ones here everyday, the giant pumpkin growers.