Dear reader...
AFEW SUMMERS AGO, I decided to put my name down for an allotment. In my mind’s eye, I saw rows of perfect vegetables arranged around a central path. I even drew it out to scale and marked out the beds accordingly. A privet hedge was planted halfway down the plot, beyond which was a neatly mown lawn planted with dwarf apple and pear trees.
But what I soon discovered was that those neat lines did not account for self-seeded weeds, the damage wind can do to an exposed site or the deep holes dug by visiting badgers. It was clear that a more instinctive approach was needed.
Around the badgers’ favourite area of excavation, I stopped mowing the grass. Rows became a thing of the past too, replaced by a traditional cottage garden approach of combining flowers and vegetables in the same patch.
Planting in clumps diminished the impact of the wind and the weeds, and in mixing everything together, I discovered unexpected new combinations.
Peas scrambled riotously through the border; their tendrils grasping what they could along the way as they mingled with the feathery foliage of powder-pink cosmos and the vivid blue, star-like flowers of borage. Intense orange blooms of self-seeded marigolds popped up among the claret-veined leaves of beetroot; a striking combination for a posy or a salad.
The whole allotment seemed lusher and certainly more colourful. I also discovered that if badgers decide they want your strawberry crop, there is not a lot you can do about it, but if you dot the plants around rather than planting them all together, one or two might just escape their attention.