A few months ago, when I received an email about an available allotment in my area, I struggled to remember when I had signed up for one. It turns out I had done so two years ago, fuelled by my envy for those with gardens during lockdown. Back then, all I wanted was a small bit of outdoor space that felt like my own, to plant flowers, herbs and, at a push, some chillies.
A place where I could read and write in the sun, safe from distractions. Now I was being presented a half plot of available land (125 square metres!) with an established apple tree in the middle – which I mistook for a cherry because of its pink blossom. “You’ll have to have a trial period, to see how you get on,” the woman showing me around said.
She meant business. The plot, which was bigger than I could dream of, was beautiful but overgrown – getting it started would require proper graft. I wasn’t sure I had it in me.
Fast forward to now, when I spend hours a week sowing, pruning, weeding, watering and harvesting. After seeking guidance from family and watching beginner’s gardening YouTube videos, my boyfriend and I ditched date nights and arranged our weekends to get our hands dirty and trim overgrown grass, shovel composted soil into raised beds, build an insect hotel from scratch and deal with slug infestations. It helps that our surroundings feel like a slice of heaven: birdsong fills the treetops, the scent of blooming flowers perfumes the air and buzzing bees hop from one flower to the .