The Allotment is a wonder of British life like no American has ever known. Those in the US who live the ranch life don't know it, the suburban families who maintain their garden status quo are unaware of it, and the farm family who self-sustain might poo poo at the simplicity of it. The closest thing I can compare it to is storybook serfs who worked the land for their Lord and Lady or Kingship, albeit here in this case without the Lord, or Lady, or King.
When Husband first introduced this idea to me it was as foreign to me as I was. To this expat, the idea that a person could pay a minimal amount (and I mean a puny amount compared to what you'd probably guess) per year to work the land and grow their own fruit and veg and flowers - That seemed like a complete made up tale to me and something left over from some medieval madness. And yet, when hubs told me that his application for an allotment was granted and we could go check out the plots of land to choose one, I was pleasantly surprised to find a plot on the end of a row of plots - this one full of purple sprouting broccoli and possibility.
My husband once lived in a cottage and kept chickens, grew strawberries and other veg and because of this experience, he inspired me to help in any way I could with the close to no knowledge I had of growing food to sustain myself. My time in the Explorer group or working at a Boy Scout camp made me no wiser - I mean I don't even remember how to tie the knots I was supposed to teach others to do - and my enthusiasm for household plants was usually short lived when I found out that like humans, they too need water to survive. Still, while Husband toiled over the land mowing and edging and planting trees and putting up sheds, no allotment could be complete without the row of lush lavender I placed ever so perfectly in front of the shed, the rose garden that will never nutritionally sustain us, and the metal arch that held the wildly growing scented Jasmine that led you past the almost pointless Buxus to the ever so consciously placed herb garden I planted (in the planters husband made with his bare hands).
Months of trial and error - mostly husband's trials and my errors - resulted in the fruits of our (ahem) labor (labour if you're in the UK). Corn, spinach, lettuce, tomatoes (my God the tomatoes!), rhubarb, beans, peas, chilis, potatoes, onions... Husband did it all. There were newly planted fruit trees, plums from the incredible tree left on the allotment... And my first apple pie made from the magical and gnarly and probably ancient apple tree there.
My impulsivity and desire to create accelerated. I insisted on a Facebook Marketplace shed so I could paint - and then got too freaked out by all the spiders. I insisted on a white polytunnel so I could do yoga there - the most beautiful polytunnel with grape trees and flowers - that I did yoga in probably once only, until I got freaked out by the nearby allotment dude being able to see me.
Then the Pandemic's lockdown came and went - The bountiful supply of fruit and veg and dreams of jarring and canning came and went - my first attempt at drying herbs and making dried homemade beef jerky came and went - and then the home that we dreamed of having and I spent every night "manifesting" came - So we went.
I remember the neighbour allotment holder had said "It's a lot of work." Their allotment was right behind their house. I'd get so defensive in my head thinking, "Oh yeah? Well we're up to it!" Secretly and semi-subconsciously thinking "Oh yeah? Well Husband is up to it!" Now, with a new home, the worry of neighbour allotment holders stealing gooseberries disappeared. We welcomed the fruit theft because we just weren't around enough to maintain and eat it all. You can imagine though, that the energy Husband put into creating life at the allotment now became the energy he put into our new home. The first tree was planted in memory of his and eventually our dear Chloe cat. The beautifully painted blue and white shed. The large olive trees in massive pots in the garden. My dream of Wisteria planted and arranged beautifully hanging off the side of the building (in this case blue and white shed)- and the red, white and blue roses planted as a symbol of both the US and UK. Husband did it all.
I suppose the US has community gardens and the allotments would be something like that - perhaps instead of a couple square feet, you just have a much larger plot. I'm the spoiled fruit who was blessed enough to have a husband who put up a shed, the base, the roof, and who insulated it, painted it, and solar-powered it up on top of it all. It was in those early days of our relationship and our time as newlyweds when he built the foundation for our life together. Husband is the most consistent, grounding human I have ever known. If I was going to plant anything in my new life in the UK, he would be/provide the fertile soil in which to plant it. In a short time, I was promoted at work. Almost every year or two I was promoted at work. It was as if he knew exactly what was needed in order for me to grow in this new country. The right amount of space, the right amount of consistency, the right amount of light - information.
My plants don't die as quickly now. Husband still reminds me to water them. I still buy plants that provide the pretty over the function - But bees provide over one-third of the world's food supply and love those flowers. I can't imagine how many bees I've supported now because of Husband's love.
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