The potato harvest is in!

I set out for the allotment this morning with one job in mind. The potato harvest.

I have already picked a couple of hands full over the past week so I knew there were spuds down there.  It was with great anticipation that I grabbed  “The Big Fork” and sallied forth. The ground was soggy due to all the rain we’ve had which made it heavy going. Not a job for whimps as muscles were flexed, earth went flying, The Big Fork got red hot! (I have been known to exaggerate.)

If you promise not to laugh I will show you the results.

Here it comes ……….

The potato harvest

On the plus side I did have a good work-out.

Don’t know where I went wrong, perhaps the heavy rain hasn’t helped, but I’m not wasting tears over it – so I got on with the next planting.

This time I’m growing King Edwards and I’m going to use bags rather than plant them in the ground. I laid the potatoes on a layer of good compost and organic fertiliser. I’ll be topping up the soil as the plants grow, until I get to the top of the bag.

Here are three of the bags already in place.  Just behind the green bag you can see a small bed of potatoes that I will be digging up in a month or so. Hopefully there are some spuds underneath all that greenery.

I knew what I was doing when I named this blog “Allotment Adventures with Jean”  because gardening is an adventure. You put in the effort, you give tender care, and you may get zilch.  (Do you remember the catastrophic rhubarb?).  On the other hand, some stuff gets neglected and grows like Topsy.

When I set up this blog I had to decide between two names. It’s been on my mind today. The other name I thought of using was “Optimists Anonymous”.

Happy gardening.

Rhubarb Rhubarb Rhubarb

This is meant to be a light hearted blog about the joys of running a (very) small allotment.

But there is a dark side.

After a few weeks ruminating about it I have been persuaded, by my son Nigel, to come clean about the rhubarb.

I have happy memories of the wonderful rhubarb and custard of my childhood in the UK. And that was the time when anybody who took rhubarb growing seriously followed the horses round the street with a bucket and shovel in their hands and a hopeful look on their face. Local kids who got lucky could sell horse poo to their neighbourhood rhubarb growers.

So there is a long history of us dedicated gardeners and rhubarb lovers.

And I want to grow rhubarb!  I want great arms full of it!

So I bought a plant from Bunnings and fed it up and nurtured it and kept it weed free.  And this is my reward. The label is a bit bigger than a matchbox.

I even went as far as showing this to gardening guru Annette McFarlane who came up with the answer. “It want’s to live in Tasmania”.

So there you have it.

You want decent rhubarb. Move south.

Jerry Coleby-Williams

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