There were rumours, there was idle gossip, but Saturday proved to be a day not easily forgotten.
Could it be?
As I took a moment, stepped back and broke free from the evil tendrils of my archenemy, bindweed, I cast my eye across the patchwork of plots only to witness a miracle. Allotmenteers gathered together in silence looking upwards in awe, pointing to the orange temptress that hung seductively in the sky, sharing her warmth. The sun had returned! Unannounced, her unashamed confidence would have people talking for days, all looking, all smiling, all basking in the glory of this long lost lady. I’m not going to lie, I too was seduced by her charms. It was then I had a moment of clarity, ‘This is my chance!’
Making a dash to the car, I quickly returned with our freshly delivered rhubarb crowns. I held them proudly. Like the Emperor with his new clothes, my chin was high, my confidence brimming. These were the jewels that would open shed doors, give me reputation and respect down at the allotment shop. Even the most green-fingered would twitch with envy when they saw these treasures at their reddening peak.
Their bed lovingly prepared I gently tucked them in, threw a soiled blanket across their potential goodness and took stock. This was my first vegetable to be planted in our little kingdom. I had done it! I had finally lost my allotment ‘cherry’. I think it went well? I took my time, made a note of their name and took the right precautions. And when the deed was done, I didn’t skulk into the shadows, I sat alongside my three (yes, three!) newly laid companions and looked upon them fondly. Stockbridge Arrow, Victoria and Polish Raspberry, you were my first and for that I shall always thank you. And in the sky, my shining visitor continued to smile down on me.