The Sudden Season

There is one week every year, when the summer swiftly shifts gear into autumn. Sunshine takes a backseat to rain, elongated nights overtake the days and while the indicators have been signalling the end of summer for weeks, the seasons change lane in a matter of days. This is no three-point manouvre, no gentle tapping of the brakes, here in Ireland the summer comes screeching to a halt. Here, autumn is the sudden season.

The last yields of summer begin to wither away and as autumn wraps itself around the garden, the industrious gardener goes into overdrive preparing the plot for winter.

The past week has been that week in my garden. The sudden week. The mornings are cold, the evenings are dark and the garden is looking a little worse for wear. I’m clinging to the clutches of summer where I can, but it is decidedly autumnal on the plot. My once glorious rhubarb foliage is turning to brown sludge, the potato bed lies empty and it seems that every single one of my lettuces bolted at once, perhaps very apt considering the athletic year that’s in it. Ladies and Gentlemen, the gold medal in the 100m lettuce race goes to…………Insane Bolts


Insane Bolts takes to the podium to collect his medal

My summer crops are completely written off; gone are the days of french beans, spring onions, radishes and rocket. R.I.Peas.

Perhaps it is appropriate that the sudden season has arrived on the eve of the equinox – and no matter how many polls my lovely pals over at GIY hold on their twitter about when autumn truly begins – as of tomorrow, there can be no denying that summer has driven off into the September sunsets and we are now facing into the long road to spring 2017.

img_3657Not all is lost however, harvest season is still in full throttle. I’m still picking a stupid amount of tomatoes, I have three large beds still packed full of veggies for autumn and I’ve begun my winter planting in earnest.


September is the time of year that separates the fair weather gardeners from the dedicated, year-round gardeners. During the summer, it is easy to spend time on the plot. There’s little rain or wind to contend with and everything looks green, lush and buzzing with life. It’s easy to put on shorts and t-shirts, a trust pair of old runners, crack open a beer, light the bbq and float around the garden at an easy going pace. In autumn and winter though, visiting the plot becomes more of a chore. It requires weather forecast checks, wellies, rain coats, thermal vests, fingerless gloves, fluffy socks and hats. Never scarves though, scarves are a hazard in the garden, all those trailing edges getting caught in gates/doors, I have learned the hard way more than once, not to wear a scarf in the garden.

Gardening in Autumn requires more effort, but the rewards are far more sweet. I adore the dull, quiet, rainy days on the plot, when there’s not a soul around and the plants are laden with rain. I love the smell of the rain, I love how malleable the soil is, I enjoy the sodden solitude of a day on the plot in September. It is eerie, empty, ethereal.

While autumn has parked itself in Dublin for a while, and I begin I root out my trusty fleeces and boots and the holy grail that is thick, black tights, I am busier than ever. The garden needs a serious tidy, there is digging and weeding and raking and composting. There is seed collecting, harvesting, pot cleaning and seed sorting. There is planting, planting and more planting. Despite the fact that summer is over, there are still a lot of crops to grow overwinter and while in previous years, I have often taken a break from the allotment for a month or two, this year I am growing plenty of over wintering vegetables in my garden. I have been planting potatoes for Christmas, spring cabbages, purple sprouting broccoli, mustard and oriental salads and have onions, garlic and broad beans all lined up to plant in the coming weeks. The onset of winter doesn’t mean a barren plot, it means a busier plot, that needs a hard working and dedicated gardener, and those why shy away from the vegetable garden now, suffer the consequences the following spring.


My Christmas spuds growing strong in September

With the sudden arrival of autumn in the garden, I too am shifting gear, I’ll be spending less time on the plot in the evenings as it will be too dark to visit by the time I finish work. My gardening exploits will be confined to the weekends and I’ll be spending more quality time with cups of tea, duvets and my laptop.

I’m under a promise to the droves of people who voted on my winter-veggie twitter poll (by droves I mean four people, whoever you may be, you four voters mean more to me than ten thousand) to write about how to grow spring cabbages, so that’ll be hitting your screens sometime tomorrow.

September also brings with it some exciting prospects for me. I won a silver award for my blog at the Irish Blog Awards for most innovative blog which is a shock, an honour and privilege and I continue to be amazed that my little gardening blog has had a big impact this year. I know a lot of my readers voted so I’d like to thank you for your support, not just with the votes, but for continuing to read, comment, share and support my silly little gardening adventures. As much as the garden has grounded me in recent years, nothing humbles me more than the kindness of my gardening community, both at the allotments and online. I fully intend to display just how humble I am by introducing myself from here on in as “Fiona Kelly, award winning blogger”.


I also wrote another article for GIY’s GROW magazine on managing your autumn harvests, making jam and my forthcoming number one Christmas Album. I feel privileged to be asked again to contribute to such a wonderful publication. There’s also a pretty awesome masterclass in there on brewing your own cider and wine, which, let’s face it, is something we can all dig. If you’d like to get a copy of GROW, you can visit www.giyinternational.org


I also have some other major gardening news coming soon. Life continues to reward me, but the greatest reward still, is the garden itself and as for the garden, it may be autumn but I love her more than ever. I think it’s getting serious now.

You can get me on twitter for more polls, veggie puns and musings about why in god’s name the garlic sauce you get with pizza is better than any other garlic sauce known to man. I’m also on Facebook, Instagram and Snapchat as fionagrowsfood if you haven’t had your fill here. FionaGrowsWorldwideEmpire.

Thanks again for all the good vibes. I love you all as much as I love kicking wildly through piles of autumn leaves. 




Garden Time

May hovers over the city on wings of promise; that the summer sun will awaken the garden and warm rain showers will wash away the long cold drought of the past month. It seems that in a matter of days, Dublin has been painted with the colours of late spring. While last week, I was braced against driving sleet and howling winds and lamenting the loss of everything I’d planted; the past few days, the temperature is steadily rising and looks set to reach the high teens this weekend. My plot is swiftly coming to life. In every bed and every empty space, young plants push themselves above the surface of the soil and everywhere I look is littered with new life.

French Beans “Purple Tepee”

The natural world around me is teaching me a valuable lesson in patience. I’ve spent the past month eager to sow seeds that would never have germinated and the act of planting outdoors would have been a wasted effort; ergo, I have simply waited.

I am a person who finds it hard to wait for anything. I am impatient by nature and never fully content with my current progress, be it in the garden or in life. My mind is always ten steps ahead of my body, I am forever looking to the future, to the next hour, the next day, the next week, eager and anxious to know what lies ahead. I spend most nights playing out the possibilities of the future in my mind: Will I succeed? Will I be happy? Will I live a good enough life? Forever hungry for achievement, I am not content until I feel I have succeeded, until I have progressed. It’s a stressful and exhausting way to live and I find myself in an almost infinite state of mental fatigue.

The pursuit of gardening has become the antithesis to my overactive mind. Nature is teaching me to slow down, to live in the moment, to ground myself. This wonderful planet we live on moves ever forward through time in cycles outside of our control and I am learning to move with it instead of racing against it. Learning to wait is one of the greater lessons that gardening has taught me. Yearning to succeed in the garden every year, I’ve had a tendency to rush in too early in the season and find myself frustrated in June and July when nothing has grown as expected. Each harvest season, I stand on the plot and wonder why all the labour I’ve put in during the early Spring has failed to come to fruition, why after a year of steady gardening, I have very small yields of crops. I’ve come to realise that while my eagerness to have a productive plot is a positive pursuit, I need to spend more time waiting. I’m learning that waiting for the right time isn’t a waste of time.

It is now May and I have waited. The world spins on and is the greatest clock at my disposal. The temperatures have risen, the sun is shining and the earth is telling me it’s time to grow.

Tomato “Moneymaker”

I’ve been visiting the plot each evening this week to plant some crops and water the garden. When just last week, my raised beds were all but empty, I now have beetroot, peas, french beans, mangetout beans, potatoes, onions, tomatoes, basil, khol rabi, aubergines and strawberries bursting to life. My tulips are growing, my gladioli are spiking into the air, my artichokes and asparagus are returning and the whole plot is waking up from its annual slumber.

The cycle of the seasons moves ever forward and I’m learning to trust the movement of time, I’m learning how to navigate this life with patience. I am growing in tandem with my garden.



El Crapo!

The arrival of April is an exciting prospect for the vegetable gardener. The clock has moved one hour forward, the seemingly endless winter nights are truncated and the daylight hours stretch out their arms into a summer embrace. We uproot ourselves from the Netflix binges and shed our winter coats, we plant our feet firmly in our wellies and plunge our hands into the soil, for April heralds the hope of heavy Autumn harvests.

There’s an old proverb “Sweet April showers, do spring May flowers” and if that is truly the case, then I fully expect my plot to be glorious with colour in May. Here in Ireland, the position of the jet stream often causes heavy downpours during the month of April and the rain here in Dublin has been fierce, driving and relentless since the first day of the month. While I often welcome the April rains, I sincerely wish the sky would choose days when I’m stuck in work to open up instead of choosing to do so when I am free to garden all day. It seems that every day I plan to visit the allotment, it doesn’t just rain but it absolutely pours. Now, I’m no fair-weather gardener and have often been the only person on site in my wellies and rain gear, working on the plot, but it is simply impossible to plant anything outdoors when the weather is working against you.

Usually by now, I have a lot more planted on the plot, however, I am not one to panic. It is often the case that everything I plant in March dies anyway and I have to start all over again. Gardening is all about patience, about letting the climate make your decisions, about becoming dependant on the natural world so, while I am on the back foot, hedging my bets and biding my time, I have learned over the past few years that nature will invariably show me when it is time to plant.

Most years, I plant my onion sets in mid-March but this year I waited until the 10th of April, which happened to be a dry, if not windy day. I planted a full raised bed with Sturon onion sets, this variety thrived for me two years ago so I decided to give them another shot. There’s something very special for me about planting onion sets. Onions were my first truly successful crop on my plot in the first year and it always feels that garden season has truly begun when they go in. The torrential rain the following day may be problematic however and I’m sitting here, worried that my baby onions are now floating around in a muddy puddle.


Spot the rows of onion sets


This is when having a polytunnel becomes very beneficial. Despite the slow start to the season, I am able to sow seeds under cover. I love standing in my polytunnel while the rain drums on the plastic overhead, sowing seeds, drinking tea, blaring music and singing at the top of my lungs. This week, I’ve planted Aubergines, Courgettes, Chillies, Dwarf French Beans and Basil in the warmth and safety of the polytunnel. I’ve also sown some flowers including Nasturtium (no allotment is complete without these beautiful and edible flowers), Sweet Peas and Marigolds.

IMG_1526Last week, my folks returned from a trip to Amsterdam and brought me back something I’ve always wanted to grow (no, not that, I don’t particularly fancy being arrested*), they brought me home some black tulips. These have been kept in cold storage over winter and are a late blooming variety so I’m hoping they bloom in a matter of weeks. Black tulips aren’t truly black, but a very deep shade of purple and I have a bit of a thing for blue and purple flowers so I am very excited to see if they bloom for me. Watch this space.

* I am wildly disapointed that I can not realise my childhood dream of becoming a powerful criminal mastermind and organic-hippie-drug-cartel. Dublin’s very own El Chapo: El Crapo! 


Decked Out

Hello all. I know it has been quite a while since I updated the blog, apologies, it’s been a very busy couple of months in the garden. Mostly, I’ve been growing food instead of writing about growing food. I spend a lot of time writing here about my plot but nowhere near as much time as I should on the actual plot, so I put aside the blog for a spell and concentrated on getting the allotment to where I wanted it to be, and oh boy, it was worth it. Rest assured, I am back in full swing now so expect a return to normal blogging services.

It can be difficult to juggle a full time job and a full time allotment and I often get tired/lazy/disillusioned with the garden. It had often become a chore, a task, something I had to make an pained effort to do. In the past few months, my attitude has shifted. I now crave the garden, I feel the draw to it every day (though sadly I can not be there every day). I think I’ve done more on the plot in the past ten weeks than I did in the entirety of last year and it’s really beginning to show.



The plot has seen some pretty big changes lately, I’ve been doing a lot of the work I’d been putting off for the past 2 years. I’ve filled all my raised beds to the brim with healthy compost, the soil had been in very bad condition and it was a job that was essential this year if I wanted healthy crops, I also finally filled the last of the six large beds which had lain unused for over 18 months. I’ve filled all my pathways with bark mulch and repainted the beds. I’ve planted my onions, shallots, potatoes, carrots, beetroot, kale, broccoli, sorrel, rocket, peas, scallions, radishes, lettuces, cabbages, cauliflowers and more.  I have a polytunnel full of plants including tomatoes, chills, peppers, courgettes, herbs, loads of summer flowers and this years biggest challenge…..watermelons (more on these later in the week). I have new flower beds, new borders, new fruit bushes, new everything really. There is now very little wasted space on the plot.


I even built myself a small decking area. I have very heavy clay soil and it tends to flood, particularly in the area outside my polytunnel which has always been wasted space and I’ve been itching to do something with it. After a heavy rain, getting into my polytunnel was akin to wading through a swamp, something had to be done. So, feeling productive, I got my thinking cap on. Not to mention my sexy work gear: ripped shorts, raggy t-shirt, gardening gloves, knee high socks, polka dot wellies, you know, standard construction worker ensemble. I also had a scaldy brew on the go, a breakfast roll and a pack of Tayto; perfected my wolf whistle and made sure my crack was on display when I bent over, for the sake of continuity.

I needed to create something simple, affordable and rustic looking but that would provide good drainage too. I dug over the area, but leaving a small ridge on either side, creating a dip in the ground. I placed some scaffolding planks across this dip, held up at either end by the ridge and then slid a few planks lengthways underneath to brace it. This way, the decking is straight but has a bit of give in it when walked on and has a space for water to drain into underneath. Now, either I am an engineering mastermind or it’ll all fall apart but only time will tell. I make it all sound very easy and a well executed undertaking but believe me, it was not. Scaffolding planks are heavy, and awkward, and likely to cause injury. I got one splinter so large in the palm of my hand it could have been mistaken for stigmata.


The deck looks pretty snazzy though I do want to add a seating area next. I’ve been spending many an evening, sitting on the plot with my tea and some music on, just enjoying the peace of the garden.

I would venture so far as to say that to date, this is my most successful year on the plot. It seems that I have finally found my rhythm and I now love the garden more than ever. The only real issue this year has been the weather. It’s mid-May and today it is cold, raining and windy. Everything is a bit slower to get started this year (except for my spuds, I’m convinced they’d grow in cement) even my peas are struggling, which is a first. The garden isn’t as green as it usually would be in May so here’s hoping we get a few weeks of summer heat to give everything a boost.

I have absolutely loads to share over the coming weeks so keep your eyes peeled. Until then, get outside and plant something. Give life to something, take care of it, watch it grow, there is nothing more rewarding in the world.

My new strawberry beds, complete with spring crocuses


This week was a big week for me, not only was it my birthday (I’m crazy old now guys), it was also the birthday of my allotment on the same day. I’ve come a long way in three years, I’ve had some highs, many lows, blight, mildew, bumblebees and butterflies. I’ve had successful crops, disastrous crops, snails, more snails, compost, slugs, even more snails and a lot of muck under my nails. It has been a huge learning curve and I’m still learning something new every day but this year, is the first year that I feel like I’m not as much of a novice anymore, although I am still a complete amateur. I’ve put a lot of work into the plot over the past month and it’s beginning to show already. I have three of my large raised beds fully planted up, everything had been pruned, I’ve finally begun to deal with the disastrous corner and I’m finding myself spending more time on the plot this year than in previous years.

Three years ago, when I first began my little gardening project, I never expected it to turn out the way it has. I thought I would have a perfect garden in no time, with bounteous harvests all summer long and nothing but long days to spend in the garden in the sunshine. How wrong I was. Life you see, has this funny way of throwing spanners in the works and every now and then, something comes along that takes me away from the garden. Such is the nature of things. As such, I have not been as dedicated, as hard working as I would have always liked to be, and my garden is far from perfect, and that is just fine by me. A garden shouldn’t be perfect, just as life isn’t perfect. (I am of course, perfect. Modest too).

Malahide Allotments, year 3

Malahide Allotments, year 3

Three years since I first stepped on to the plot and it’s still a mess, there are still empty spaces, messy spaces, wasted spaces and poorly planned spaces. On Tuesday, I woke up feeling a lot older but no wiser. I made my way out to the garden, to celebrate our joint birthday and I realised that despite the fact that the garden isn’t always the way I want it to be, it is intrinsically perfect because it makes me happy all the time, and what else could I ask for really.

Planting my spuds

Planting my spuds

2015-03-10 11.38.43

Ready for planting

March is a time of new beginnings in the garden, it’s getting into planting season and everything is coming back to life. My perennials are beginning to throw up new growth and I’m beginning to get some planting established. On Tuesday week I planted a bed of first early potatoes, some shallots and about 60 red onions. I dug, dug and dug some more and finally got rid of the four foot tall mound of muck in the corner of the plot. I figured it would be nice in a few months time to harvest my onions and potatoes and be able to say “I planted these on my 30th birthday”. Yes, I’m thirty *insert over the hill joke here*.

I also planted 18 strawberry plants, which is probably a stupid amount to plant but I haven’t grown them successfully before and I’m hedging my bets. Get it? Hedging? Because it’s  a garden? Yeah, I’m a comedian.

My new strawberry beds, complete with spring crocuses

My new strawberry beds, complete with spring crocuses

I’m really happy with the plot so far this year, It’s gotten off to a great start. Here’s hoping that I’ll be able to visit it next March, and every March afterward and celebrate my birthday in style. Here’s to another year!


50 Shades of Clay

Have you ever had a weekend, so exhilarating, so exciting, so very, very dirty that you wake up on Monday with a smile on your face, your back muscles aching and a deep burn in your thighs? Well I have just had that weekend. Now, before you think I’ve gone all raunchy on you, I am of course talking about my weekend in the garden. Although, maybe I’m on to something, there’s a definite gap in the market for erotic gardening novels. I’ll call mine 50 Shades of Clay. I’m going to make millions guys!

…Her tight denim shorts strained against her rump as she bent over the bed. Her hands slick with dew, the back of her neck glistening with sweat. She wiped her muddied hand on her sunburned leg, and as he watched her run the streak of soil from her trembling thigh down to the rim of her wellies, he held his large tool in his hand and fantasised about spending long clammy afternoons in her polytunnel…

Yes, my friends, I had a very dirty weekend.

It was a cold but dry weekend in Dublin and it was definitely the first sign of spring. My plot is beginning to come back to life, there are a few crocuses and daffodils opening and the desolation of winter is beginning to disappear.

I had a serious stroke of luck this weekend. I hauled myself out to the plot early on Saturday morning intending to spend an hour or so just pulling up some weeds and tidying up. Little did I know I’d spend the day up to my eyeballs in compost.

There I was, surveying my plot, trying to figure out where the hell to start when one of my neighbours came over for a chat. Turns out, he had ordered 15 tonnes of compost and had to get it all moved that day. Now, this stuff was gorgeous. Yes I just referred to muck as gorgeous, but in all seriousness, it was the most attractive thing I’ve seen in weeks. He very kindly offered me some and so I spent the day carting wheelbarrows full of muck back and forth to my plot. I filled my large raised beds with about two tonnes of it and I’m amazed at the difference it has made to the plot already. It’s a far cry from the greyish looking muck that was in there before, now my soil is rich and fertile.


My soil looking replenished

My soil looking replenished


….it had been a number of years since her patch had a good ploughing….

Now, soil may seem like very boring thing to all my non gardening friends but it is the single most important thing in a garden. Think about it, with no soil, nothing would grow, there would be nothing to plant your seeds in, nothing to sustain your plants. Soil, you see, is not just a load of dirty brown stuff. It is the giver of life. It is packed full of important nutrients for plants and bad soil = bad plants. As such, most gardeners, will spend more time on muck in Spring than on anything else and this is the time of year to get your soil ready for planting. Be it digging, composting or raking, preparing your soil is not only prudent, it is an essential task in any garden.

……His biceps swelled as he lifted the wheelbarrow, mud streaked across his brow, his torn t-shirt revealing the lean yet mountainous landscape underneath….

Last year, I didn’t really do much with my soil and it really began to show in mid summer. I hadn’t composted or manured any of my raised beds and consequently, my plants suffered. Plants take vital nutrients from the soil and it is essential to put that goodness back into the soil for each growing season. Compost is possibly the best way to do this, it needs to be well rotted and packed full of nutrients. This year, I had intended to buy a mountain of compost to breathe some goodness back into my earth. Thankfully, I no longer have to do that due to the generosity of a fellow gardener.  What is it Mr Tennessee Williams said about the kindness of strangers?

…and as she handled the rough foliage, she knew that what her bed was missing right now was a good forking….

I also spent quite a few hours weeding on Saturday, it’s amazing how nothing will really grow in winter, oh wait no, it will, the weeds will grow. They will grow year round apparently and despite the cold and the lack of light and the driving wind and the rain and the frost and the snow and the hail. They will always grow.

….she spent her days in the lonely greenhouse, praying he would appear and help to fertilise her seeds….

I hightailed it home at about five o’clock, freezing cold, covered in muck and exhausted, so naturally, I decided to go out for more punishment on Sunday. It’s still far too early to plant much outside but I did plant some garlic, a mild, soft neck, French variety called Germidour (can be bought in Mr Middleton’s for my Dublin based readers), most garlic should be planted in late autumn but this variety can be planted right up until February if you have the right conditions. I haven’t grown garlic successfully before so I have high hopes for a good crop this year. I also potted up some strawberry plants (I have a whole other blog post coming about that little adventure).


Garlic ready for planting


I finally put up my birdhouse, which I painted about a year ago and then completely forgot about, tidied my shed (long overdue) and had about 106 cups of tea. All in all a very productive weekend.


My adorable birdhouse


…..she swooned as he plunged his spade deep into her trench over and over….

Work on 50 Shades of Clay has begun, expect to find it in all good bookshops in the near future. Seeking gorgeous gardener to play the male protagonist in the movie version. I will of course, play the female lead.

The canvas awaits

Turn, Turn, Turn

Hello, and Happy New Year from Fiona Grows Food.

It has been a bit of a strange few months, hence the lack of blog posts, many apologies to my regular readers. I’ve been pretty busy in work (Christmas is silly season in retail), busy partying, busy living, busy having a bit of an existential crisis. I’m not trying to sound melodramatic, I’ve literally been busy questioning my life choices, and in turn, questioning whether I even wanted to continue gardening anymore. As such, my allotment and the blog have gone to the wall a bit. In fact the past few months, I could have realistically renamed my blog Fiona Drinks Booze with the caption “scene missing” and it would have been a more accurate reflection of my lifestyle.

However, last Friday, something wonderful happened. It was the 2nd of January and I woke up, still nursing a bit of a sore head from New Year’s Eve and decided to get some fresh air, clear the cobwebs a bit and see what state of disarray my poor garden had fallen into over the weeks of winter neglect. I hauled myself out to the plot, expecting the worst horrors that a neglected allotment had to offer. On arrival, however, that feeling came over me, that “I love this place” feeling that I only get in the garden. That complete happiness.

It was cold, wet and grey, there wasn’t a soul to be seen on site, aside from a hare who was fast asleep beside my shed who ran thundering past when I woke him. I remembered just how good the garden made me feel, there’s a sense of peace there, a sense of belonging.

Needlessly to say, the plot was looking a bit anarchic. There were – somehow, despite the cold months- weeds everywhere. There was a huge pile of muck and debris in one corner where my old compost heap had been which I tore apart in a rage in November, on my last visit to the plot in 2014.

The bloody state of the place!!

The bloody state of the place!!

The terrifying fennel, this thing was bigger than my head

The terrifying fennel, this thing was bigger than my head

There were last year’s unharvested vegetables: some sad looking brussel sprouts, a patch of limp leeks, a monstrous florence fennel, the world’s most overgrown sage plant, a bamboo wigwam chocked with the dead foliage of broad beans, bare arsed raspberry canes towering like seven foot tall harbingers of death over everything. Mud. Mud everywhere. More weeds. I sighed, put on my wellies, my trusty fingerless gloves, then I got my hands dirty.

You see, the past few months, I’ve been finding it difficult to get to the plot for varying reasons, work, social commitments, but also, a lack of motivation to get out in the cold depths of winter. I’d lost that thing that makes me obsess over seeds, soil and spades. It was gone. I had no desire to garden at all. I was bereft. But the moment I plunged my hands into soil last Friday, it all came flooding back, I was back in touch with my garden again, with myself.

I spent the day moving around my plot with a natural gardener’s kinesis, pulling up unwanted plants, turning over the soil in the beds, smelling handfuls of muck, talking to worms (yes I do that), building a new compost bin, stopping every now and then to smell the salty sea air, to feel the rain on my face.

I was refreshed, full of excitement at the potential of a whole new garden year. A clean slate, a chance to do better, to do greater. A chance to grow. Consequently, the planning has begun.

I often think January is the best month of the year for a gardener. There is next to no planting or harvesting, there is little in the way of work in the garden, apart from cleaning up the ravages of winter and preparing for a new year. There is simply hope. I spend the long, dark evenings dreaming up what weird and wonderful plants I can grow in the following months. Thus, the lists have begun. I have about 12 lists as of today. What to grow, where to grow it, how to grow it, when to grow it, where to get it, how to get the soil ready for it. The year stretches out before me like a blank canvas waiting to be painted and the garden is my brush.

The canvas awaits

The canvas awaits

I’ve been thinking a lot recently about seasons and time. Maybe my waning interest in the garden lately was simply a matter of seasonal affective disorder, maybe when my garden dies in winter, my desire to be there dies along with it. Thankfully, the seasons change and the garden changes with them, as does the gardener.

I am waiting with great excitement for this season to change, for the days to get longer, for the grand stretch in the evenings, for the spring sun to warm my soil and give light to life on the plot. Until then, it’s lists and seed hoarding and planning for me.

On a final note, as I stood on the plot the other day listening to the radio, this song came on which make me snort with laughter, talk about appropriate timing. I sang it while I thought of Summer, and of all the hopeful things to come in 2015.