A question of life and death

I witnessed a murder yesterday. One of the allotment cats, a rangy black-and-white thing that’s about three times the size of Gertie, was lurking around the compost bin. She/he (I think he) was clearly up to no good, a fact given away by the resoluteness of his stare – that and the fact that he totally ignored me wittering away to him when normally this results in a speedy sprinted getaway.

Said feline ambled up the side of the pallets, hopped onto the rotting corn silks, and two seconds later emerged with a brown rodent chomped between his jaws. The whole things was languid and effortless, and the mouse (rat?) population lost another one of its own. For wildlife, life is lived wild; the end is always nigh.

Autumn is about death of course, the letting go of what is no longer needed in order to regroup for the following season. The air now smells of sweet decay, the grass is carpeted in soggy auburn leaves. Amongst the carpet lie conkers and their discarded cases. No matter how old you are, seeing the first conker of the season, freshly sprung from its velveteen womb, is an excitement.

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Horse chestnut leaves

But there is life amidst the decay. The squash are coming along and the borlottis are now finally setting their beans. I harvested a load more cima di rapa this morning, the tiny green heads already turning to flower. It needs to be harvested before it bolts or the whole lot becomes tough and inedible.

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If you ignore the insect holes, this is pretty much perfect cima di rapa

I mentioned that the leeks aren’t doing so well. They’ve been got by a fungal bug, causing them to droop and brown off. I think the lot will need to be pulled and we’ll have to live off leek and potato soup for a month.

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Leeks with rust

But the hyssop is in flower, possibly the most beautiful thing on the allotment currently. For a tiny plant, the herb produces the most vibrant acid purple flower. These were planted in mid-June.

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Beautiful delicate hyssop

And those cosmos: the cosmos seem to be – if you’ll excuse me – the talk of the allotment. Whenever I see any of our neighbours I get SERIOUSLY complimented on the cosmos. I will happily take the praise but really, I have done nothing – I didn’t even plant them, my mother did. They’ve been a glorious mass of pure white for about 6 weeks now, probably more, and are only just beginning to fade. I spent an hour this morning dead-heading, the early sun warming my back.

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The mass of cosmos

At all times, but particularly at this time, the greatest wisdom must be to notice and enjoy the moment whilst you can.

Reaping what you sow

I’ve been to the V&A this week, also known as The Best Museum in London. This was the first image to catch my eye, stretching the entire double length of the Tunnel entrance:

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Carousel Wall by David David, V&A Tunnel Entrance

These are tiles, masterminded by British graphic design studio David David but manufactured by Johnson Tiles in Stoke, installed into an eye-bending hall of colour. It doesn’t take a genius to see the Islamic inspiration for the work, but I love how the vibrant geometric pattern gives such a contemporary exciting feel.

What I love even more is that the tiles were made by master craftsmen in the Midlands at a time when so much production has disappeared overseas. This part of the world has such a tradition of being at the forefront of contemporary craftsmanship; it’s refreshing to see artists and designers using the world class skills on their doorstep. Use the skills and they stay alive: you reap what you sow.

Sometimes, however, you don’t get to reap what you sow. Not when you’re dealing with high-maitenence tomatoes. Sadly, the experimental outsiders (the Grange Hill lot) didn’t make the cold August. A tomato patch really should NOT look like this:

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I’m pretty sure tomato plants shouldn’t look like this

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Doubt these will make good passata

The lesson has been learnt: tomatoes marked “greenhouse only” really don’t like being outdoors, especially when it gets freezing cold at harvest time. The inside lot are still producing and really I am fed up of making passata – but what else to do? They’re not going to store. Not like the onions, which have been drying outside for a couple of weeks and now are buffed up into perfect spheres of beauty.

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Onions and shallots

The corns, planted out mid-June, are just about ready. Only one has been nibbled by what I presume was a mouse and whilst they’re a bit higgledy-piggledy, they’re pleasing enough. We’ll have about 10 in total. I remember when corn was just boiled and daubed in butter – none the worse for that – but these may end up having a rather more filthy treatment involving a grill, chipotle mayonnaise and grated cheese.

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First crop of sweetcorn

The cima di rapa I planted a month or so ago has performed brilliantly. Seems that the best results happen when the soil is warm (so August-September rather than April-May-June) and it’s kept under fleece. The green leaves have a wonderful bitterness which work well with rich Italian or Greek dishes…it is after all just a posh weed, and the southern Mediterranean is full of recipes involving weeds.

Also today I pulled the first cavalo nero, planted out on 14 June. It’s covered in white fly and pretty small, but edible nonetheless so I’m claiming victory. The leeks have got rust, however, so they might turn out to be a different story.

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Cima di rapa and cavalo nero

Harvest: Cima di rapa, sweetcorn, cavalo nero, yet more tomatoes