Planting time

Most people think spring is the time for planting. Most people have not been to the allotments in October.

Plot 27 is busier now than it was in the summer, when everything was fruiting. The beans are cleared and the soil is turned. Nanny Joan has been on her knees since lunch, putting in the onion sets and the garlic.

The garlic has to go in now. It needs the cold. Without a winter it will not split into cloves. I find that admirable.

Wally lives at Plot 27, so he regards all of this as his job. He went along every row ahead of her. He loosened the soil. He opened the holes. When an onion set leaned, he nudged it straight, with its tip showing, the way it should be. Soil with a worm in it is better soil. He would like you to know that.

I watched from the shed window, next to the kettle, with my tea. Someone has to keep an eye on things.

Nanny Joan stopped once. She looked down the row at the holes she had not dug. She smiled, a small one, and carried on.

When the light went, the last set was in. Wally was lying across the end of the row, very still and very muddy.

I finished my tea and slid out past him on my way home.

“Cellar?” I asked.

“Yes,” said Wally.