I found my thrill on Blueberry Hill

Gave a lift to Heather today and, when we arrived, I saw a notice on the shed door saying our neighbour, Ian, had died. It was a shock to us both even though we knew he was ill. His plot has been neglected all summer and I wonder what will happen to it now. It is sad to think of all the work he put in and the sense of disorder that so quickly appears. Couldn't help thinking how all the weeds on his plot were going to seed over ours.

Planted out three blueberry bushes. Tricky to find the right location and ended up digging up masses of comfrey to accommodate them. Also dug up a bucket of bindweed. It's a real nuisance on our plot. Finished digging a bed with newly planted currant bushes.

Made a mental note to sort out the raspberries at some point, which includes making a stronger framework to support them. Also need to finish painting the shed and making it watertight.
Got given tons of apples, some russets, some an unknown variety. I've got more apples than I know what to do with but was grateful nonetheless.

Lacking my usual energy today so couldn't be bothered with the weekly feed with liquid manure. Heather and I chatted for a bit but we both got chilly standing around and I decided to go at about 5pm. The days are going to be so short from now on.

The wind in my hair

Went up to the allotment briefly to feel the wind in my hair. Great clouds scudding across the sky. No-one else around at all.

Picked a handful of autumn raspberries and ate a couple of windfall apples. They are nearly finished now, just a few red apples dotted through the trees, picking up the colour of the hips on the rose between them.

Inspected the swiss chard, not too holey, and the leeks and spinach. The latter not doing well at all. Have had no luck with spinach at all this year, it has either bolted or failed to grow at all. So much for winter spinach.

Took a stroll round the allotments, stepping over a vast sunflower that had fallen across my neighbour's path. I wanted to see if there were fruit on the quince tree. Nothing. Last year the fruits were stunning - great golden, gnarled fruits that glowed in the autumn light and stood out in sharp relief against the deep green leaves. I was disappointed, too late maybe.

Saw the old Irish guy mending his fruit cage. He shouted something to me that I couldn't hear, partially his accent, partially the wind blocking out his voice. I nodded agreement and carried on.