Cornwall 1: Sunday on the allotment

I changed into allotment clothes (3 long-sleeved top layers, jeans stiff with dried soil), made lunch (ham and Brie on stale brown bread, marinated red cabbage, cocoloco cookie, decaf Earl Grey teabag, thermos of hot water), walked out, locked door, walked back, unlocked door (forgot hat), walked out, locked door, walked to car and drove the mile and a half to my allotment. Parked against a heap of wood chip, changed into wellies, and got back in the car, for it had started to rain.

The rain stopped. The sun came out. Walked to my plot, a bag in each hand, lunch plus Things I Will Need, pausing to pick up windfalls of cooking apples on the path. At the gate to my plot, I saw the strawberry patch needed weeding. Weather had been so appalling, I hadn't been near the plot for close to 3 weeks. Then saw a portion of fence had come down in last week's storm, so that was first.

Hauled open the shed door (the door needs DIY that I'm incapable of), extricated stakes and the mallet, and managed to get fenceposts up from a 45 degree angle, and everything more or less looking vertical.

It rained. I huddled against the shed door. Couldn't get inside, for my small shed holds the contents of two sheds plus my own considerable clutter. A few years back I'd acquired an adjacent abandoned plot with a rotted shed that was falling over, plus all its contents. That shed is gone, so I now have two lawn mowers in mine, plus two rakes, two spades etc.

It stopped raining. Black plastic sheeting on beds had been torn up in the storm, so I put more down, straightened it, added more boards and bricks to weight it down.

It rained. I ate lunch in the car. Discovered marinated red cabbage works nicely with a sandwich. Looked up news on my phone. Got depressed. The rain stopped.

I set to weeding the strawberry patch, deciding if it started to rain yet again, that was it, I would give up and go home. Two hours later, rain came, and I packed up. Not quite finished, but close to finished myself, so no regrets. The weed situation in the strawberries is ridiculous. No gardening show ever seems to have the problems I have. The strawberry patch has the usual weeds and grasses but one weed in particular is a pet hate - a kid of oxalis, which in maturity has dainty yellow flowers. It's pretty. I've even seen it for sale in garden centres. (Advice: don't.) It's impossible to eradicate. Pull the leaves and the stem snaps, and the plant grows again. It grows low to the ground and while small, hides under strawberry leaves, invisible until I look for it. Roots curl around the strawberry roots - can never get them completely out. It has runners; from one plant grow an infinite number of clones. All that can be achieved is to pick away at them, reducing growth without damaging strawberries. It takes a long, long time.

But I do it, and willingly. For the strawberry patch was a free gift, the first berry plant gifted by a pooping rodent or passing bird. Now, for all the time spent on my knees poking about with my hori hori knife, there is reward. Each spring, the crop of strawberries is so abundant there's enough for me and my son's and daughter's families, leaving still enough for the freezer, and strawberries on my morning porridge all winter long.