Vegetables sometimes grow in our allotment but in some years they don’t: it’s still not raining and 2026’s vegetable crop has been reduced to a few sad and scraggly-looking beetroot plants that may or may not have edible roots underneath them. But fruit: that, we can produce. After the loganberries and jostaberries, the next tranche of free food appears to be ready.
Sunday, not exactly a ‘day of rest’, as there was work to do in the garden, work which resulted in me becoming covered in little sticky seed-balls — whomever invented Velcro must have been inspired by them. I pick the shot also for the surprisingly rugged little landscape formed by my clothing (with the knee mountain rising in the background). The jumper was destined for the washing machine soon afterwards, though.
It’s only ten days since I depicted the loganberries, but the fruit on the neigbouring jostaberry plant just looks so succulent at the moment, and there’s lots of it. I think I will try making jam with it. Jostas are a cross between blackcurrants and gooseberries and, according to the Bible (OK, Wikipedia), were first cultivated in Germany and first made available to the public in 1977. The original scientists can be assured that in the climate of Hebden Bridge their creation is doing very well.
Fruit is just so much easier to grow than vegetables. You really don’t need to do much work and that suits my gardening style. While we were in Norway, the garden experienced ten days of warm weather with occasional showers, and things have responded accordingly. I didn’t pick these two today — they’re not quite ready — but there were plenty more around the place.
A somewhat unexpected spell of sunshine (of which June has so far seen very little) got both me and this little feller working up in the allotment for a while. It’s good to see the bees getting busy and I suppose the same is true of me as well.
This year’s peas and beans are getting a relatively hi-tech home, none of this cheap cane-based arrangement this year. The frame is up, I help Clare sort out the netting, while she practices putting her feet at right angles for a minute or two.
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.
Being 42 