2025 has been a very good year for the garden, probably the best ever in terms of the amount of food grown and gathered. We had so many plums that they couldn’t all get picked and used before the wasps or some other rot got them. I think these ones are well past their best though. Taken during today’s job — pruning the tree, so it can produce more fruit in 2026, we hope.
Two decades of working the allotment has proven that fruit is so much easier to handle than vegetables. The plums and the various berries (black, blue, josta, logan) have all been and gone. But here is just a small portion of the last crop of the year. Anyone want some apples? We will have too many.
This was the product of less than an hour’s labour in the garden this morning, and there’s plenty more still up there. I know, global warming, climate change and all that, but I doubt a medieval peasant farmer would have complained about the weather round here in 2025. This has been, without a doubt, the most productive year since we acquired the allotment, thus in more than 20 years.
As it is my birthday tomorrow, with this picture I also reach 14 full years of photographs that document my doings on a daily basis. Meaning, as of today, this blog encompasses exactly one quarter of my life. There have been some times when I have felt the creativity waning, not just on particular, less interesting days but in a broader sense. But there were times like that back in 2014, or 2020, or whatever, just as there sometimes still are now. For now, I will do my best to keep it up.
Another day with very little to see, but as the sun was shining the garden once again obliges. These little red flowers are due to become green beans, and I believe that’s a junior version already curving itself attractively down towards the bottom of the picture. Vegetables and fruits of all kinds have done very well this year, even for a black-fingered (opposite of green-fingered) doofus like me.
Time for the annual update on the plum tree, which shed one of its limbs a couple of weeks ago, though we did save most of the fruit, currently ripening (but obviously not still growing) on windowsills at home. Had I not made efforts to prop up this big branch it would also, surely, have fallen by now, but those efforts seem to have been successful. There are a lot of insects around this year, so we are in a war of attrition as to who gets the bounty first, but we’re working on it.
Yesterday’s journey home was done with Joe in attendance. Up on the allotment, the hedge needed trimming. A conjunction of child, hedge and the necessary hardware was facilitated. All parties seemed reasonably satisfied with the outcome.
Must have had at least a dozen attempts at capturing this example of insectile wiggliness. Don’t know why we call them ‘bumblebees’ though — they don’t seem to bumble to me, they are very systematic. Just this much time at each flower. Which is why, once I finally got the rhythm of it, I got the shot.
Going on the number of plumlings that currently festoon the tree, I predict that come around late July, the whole thing is going to fall over. Should it stay standing, even 2023’s glut (forty-four pounds of fruit) may be surpassed.
Hello, it’s day 4,999. I’d better not forget to get the camera out at some point tomorrow.
These are the steps leading down past our allotment, which is on the right, behind the hedge. This porcelain figurine took up residence there a few months ago, thanks to persons unknown, and now seems quite at home. I’m saying it’s Beatrix Potter’s Mrs. Tiggywinkle, but C says: “that’s not a hedgehog, it’s a cat. Or a bear.” Well, whatever: none of these species wear clothes and carry around watering cans, but that’s anthropormorphism for you I suppose.
These various beetroot all came out of the ground within a couple of feet of each other. I’m sure they were all from the same pack of seeds…. I like the diversity of colour, also that this shot does imply they had all been in the ground ten minutes before it was taken: which was, more or less, the case. I think some pickling is in order.
Being 42 