We’ve decided high sides are well worth paying for, the amount of extra effective room in the borders that foot of height gives covers the additional cost. Toughened glass with larger panes not only looks better, avoiding cleaning between panes but can also be held with bar capping, much better in windy conditions. We thought coloured frames looked nice, but not worth paying extra for.
Monday was, as usual, a busy working day but the weather was iffy to say the least so no chance for the plot. Tuesday was supposed to be wet but apart from a couple of little spitty showers, it wasn’t bad at all.
So late afternoon we headed down to the plot along with a large bag of green waste for the compost bin. Val was harvesting whilst I got out the hoe and cleaned off the patch on plot 29.
She got more tomatoes, courgettes, cucumbers, carrots and even a couple more sweetcorn before heading for home, leaving me to tackle the weeds on the paths on plot 5. I picked up another ball head cabbage and a cauliflower from the raised bed next to the Wonderwall whilst I was at it.
As the clock moved towards eight a definite chill was in the air and the sun was plunging below the trees. I sat for a while watching it and realised the leaves on the trees in the wood are starting to yellow now.
It’s really the start of autumn and I suppose we must accept that yet again we’ve had a summer more like a monsoon and it is over. Maybe next year will be a blazer of a summer and I’ll be cowering in the shade every afternoon, dodging flying pigs, no doubt.
The squash have done well this year. Last year they were a flop but this year I’ve a load on the plants. It won’t be long before I’m piling them on the table to cure in the last sun of this year. As that great poet John Keats put it:
SEASON of mists and mellow fruitfulness!
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run;
To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For Summer has o’er-brimm’d their clammy cells