As everyone knows (cos I keep saying it) Dorset is not like Halifax. It's also obvious that whenever any of us move we bring part of our old lives and interest with us. Equally obvious is that our interests change in response to our new surroundings. As a blog writer I feel a sort of responsibility to readers that I should meet their expectations; that I should continue broadly in line with the common interest already established. And that's a challenge when one's day to day experiences change.
I knew such a radical change as moving from the South Coast to post-industrial West Yorkshire would mean a change in scenery and plant life so I left
Loose and Leafy in Dorset where it was and started up here - Loose and Leafy in Halifax. But I tried to keep within my original bounds - wild plants, street posts, tree following. And it hasn't been working. I mean, I hope you are still enjoying the posts - but I've been having an uncomfortable conflict of interests. Instead of walking up and down looking for things to look at, I'm purposefully digging and planting and watering and looking at all the land I've not dug over; and while there are lots of streets where urban plants grow, and while rough and rocky hills are part of the view from most parts of town . . . there are no hedgerows unless I walk out of town to find them. Certainly there are no beaches or sea-squirts, jelly fish or waves.
I thought of making the new Loose and Leafy into an almost exclusively street plant blog. But I'd end up blandly waffling if I did just that. My other blog,
Message in a Milk Bottle, can take care of them. So, where is my countryside sustenance? On my allotment. I'll acknowledge this and make my allotment the basis for my blog rather than an occasional intruder. I feel I have to say this because an allotment blog is different from a hedgerow blog and is different again from a street plant blog - though these will always get a look in.
Do you know Patrick Tillet's blog? I first started reading in 2009 when he was writing about his childhood, then his experiences in the USA army. (Gripping and well written, all of it.) Gradually it has morphed into a specialism in desert petroglyphs with absolutely stunning photographs. It's a must. Do find it. This is a part of blogging; that what we write reflects to some degree 'where we are' in our lives as well as location. And the allotment is writ large in mine so I'm announcing the allotment will forthwith be the home-base for my blog.
Switching to allotmenting is an upheaval in various ways. Yesterday I weeded round the runner beans, leaving a selection of the wild plants I like behind. Then I went round a second time and took them all out too. It was heart aching and unnatural. But the ground is not highly nutritious and I want to eat the beans and it's bad enough keeping them watered during an extended heat-wave without providing meals and glasses of water for the plants who would happily have lived here had I not intruded into their space. (Though most of them are more like pigeons - they like the kinds of landscapes humans create and follow them about. Ground-fellows.)
None the less, along with being chuffed with most results so far (the Allicante tomatoes which are ripening at speed taste of nothing and I have half a greenhouse of them). I'm probably one of the few who's pleased I can't keep the wild out. I've been taking pictures of worms and roots and 'weeds' that haven't appeared on the blog because I've been confused about its role. Now I'll let them through. Just at present, I can't stop looking at the plants I've inherited and the things I'm starting afresh. And even more distracting, I'm somewhat bewildered how to lay things out in the larger part because it's fully carpeted. I need to do a survey of professional writers who recommend people put carpet on their allotments either to keep down weeds or to make paths. It doesn't work. The roots just go underneath and pop up on the other side and it's a wonderful hiding place for slugs to lay their eggs. Do these professionals really scar their bit of land with this disintegrating, indestructible rubbish? My hair rises too when I wonder how many chemicals are leaching from it into the soil. Until I had my allotment I wondered where people are supposed to get their 'useful' old carpets from. Now I wonder how to get rid of them. How many years will it take to take it all to the council dump? How much pollution do I cause when I try to burn it?
Right, so, folks, this is now an allotment blog with extras rather than an 'extras' with an occasional allotment post thrown in. You know that line from Iolanthe when the fairy queen defends her love for the captain of the London fire brigade? 'I know it's weakness but the weakness is so strong!'? That's where I'm at.
