On early-summer trips to the plot, I arrive some time after 5am to the sight of a young fox slinking through to the den at the back. Otherwise, it is just me, the dew, the rising sun.
Yes, I welcome the later evenings. Relaxed after gardening, maybe a few allotment neighbours scattered around. The sense of satisfaction, jobs completed. But it has always been morning for me, when the plot calls keenest.
It might be bound in with my pre-breakfast trip up the hill, the satisfying stop at the bakery on the way home. Returning with buns to a still-sleeping house like a proud cat with a mouse.
But there is joy in the quiet at the allotment gates, the early bird call, the day’s energy stirring. Wandering round, perhaps a little light weeding, impatient to sow seed, but still holding back. A gradual visualisation of the year’s plot taking shape.
We know that it is not Versailles. Plot 29 is a vegetable and flower garden, but every year here a different space takes shape. There will always be sweet peas, climbing French beans, salad leaves and amaranth. There’ll be tear peas, herb fennels and dill, cascading coriander. Flowering nasturtiums and calendula.
But what will go where and when, which plants may be rested or introduced, is part of a conversation with ourselves that it’s easier to hear in the early morning.
For now, the London light doesn’t rise until after 7am and sunset is still too close to 5pm. Of course, my hours are salary men’s time. Squeezing gardening into office life. An attempt to balance hand, heart and head.
It’s just another six weeks or so until the spring equinox and British summer time. Until then, my morning visits will probably happen on the weekend, with an occasional stop off on the way to work.
Allan Jenkins’s Plot 29 (4th Estate, £9.99) is out now. Order it for £8.49 from guardianbookshop.com
