Burning

Saturday 29th March 2014 – 3.30-715pm

Intend to burn stuff today. I only have until the end of March to do any burning of rubbish and debris on the allotment. If I miss that window, then I’d have to wait until November. So, loaded up the car with bags of twigs and other wood from my fallen Rhus, took some matches and newspaper and headed to my plot.

Such a lovely warm spring day at the allotment. I breathed in the air and allowed my shoulder blades to find their way down my back to their correct position. Just breathe.

To start things off I dug a shallow hollow in the soil and put some rolled up newspaper into it, which I lit with the matches. On top of that I added small, dry twigs. Everything went out pretty quickly. Tried again several times without success. It’s been a long time since I started a fire. I know what you’re thinking and it’s not that. As a child we had an open fire with a boiler behind it to heat the water.  It was one of my jobs to start a new fire in the grate each day. I have to say that I was good at it.But now, after many attempts and increasing frustration, the small twigs began to just smoulder like charcoal. I added more twigs which gave off lots of smoke, blackened in the increasing heat then turned to charcoal again. No flames. The natural gusts of wind made the embers glow. So  I moved the lower layers to create air spaces and suddenly flames appeared. Over the baby flames I made a wigwam of twigs. This worked well and the wood began to crackle and spit. At last, a small but satisfying fire. Nature called and when I returned from the loo the flames had gone leaving smoking wood. Aaarh! I knelt down as if praying and blew hard on my non fire. I fanned it and the flames reappeared. I slowly began feeding it as if it were a sick child that needed delicate handling. The orange and purple flames rose higher and danced in the wind. Sparks were carried by the breeze as was the smoke. I tried to stay out of it’s reach but my eyes burned from the smoke and no doubt every stitch of my clothes reaked of it too. I abandoned delicacy and now threw handfulls of dry wood onto the fire as it became even hungrier. Beautiful. I just stood and watched, entranced. The sun was sinking behind the embankment in the west. Bagfulls of debris were consumed and I was tempted to burn even more, but it was getting late and I knew that I could not leave a fire unattended. I stood in the low light watching as the flames wilted leaving irridescent glowing remains.

A small mound of beauty occupying its own space and time, allowing me to share in  that brief existence.

I reach the allotment exit at twilight and a bat flutters overhead. Swooping at emerging or retiring insects, then it’s off northward.

 

 

 

Spring

Sunday 9th March 2014   [3.30pm-5.45pm]

A beautiful spring day and on the approach to the allotments I saw smoke. I immediately felt excited. Burning. March is one of the months set aside for bonfires. The other is November. I brought some bags of wood sawn from my poor Rhus, which had blown down in a strong gale. I was away attending my sister’s wedding at the time and was mortified on my return to see a gaping space that it had once occupied. I haven’t finished sawing it all up yet but it will make a huge bonfire before March is out.

Areas that I’d cleared of grass and most weeds were still reasonably clear after the winter sleep. So wasn’t too horrified when I reached my plot. Herbs still alive; sage, thyme, sorrel and rosemary. Strawberries showing signs of burgeoning life. Garlic are sending up new shoots.

Saw quite a few pairs of Red Admiral butterflies fluttering around one another. Just love the way they glide about in the warm air. To work then. Began digging up grass from the garlic bed a row at a time. Managed to clear about half of it of dandelion roots as well. There is another stubborn plant that has lovely dainty blue flowers and buttercup-like leaves, but its roots become a thick mat that is very hard to dig. Will have to root it up whenever I come across it in future, lovely though it is. Must find out its name.

The breeze is so warm, even though the sun is beginning to set behind the railway embankment to the west. Its high sloping sides are covered in Hawthorn trees. Almost time to go. I can feel a twinge to the left of my lower back. I’ve felt that before. Must stretch it out.

Dug up some garlic to take home. They are small but very pungent. The smell of burning wood lingers in the air and in my nostrils. I’m back where I belong, in and amongst nature and the soil.

Hello and welcome

My West Midlands allotment is my space. A small corner of the world where I feel truly free and thoroughly grounded, reconnected with my surroundings and time for my mind to breathe. I just love it.

I am always thrilled whenever I cover a seed with soil, water it and leave it somewhere warm and light. Then a week or two later, a tiny shoot appears above the dark soil. Wonderful.

I experience so much, I’d like to share it all with you. Whether it’s taking a well earned breather while listening to the rustle of tall summer grass or watching an Orange Tip butterfly flutter by on its hunt for a mate or somewhere to lay its eggs. Or turning into a gentle breeze while raising my sun hat to make the most of the cooling balm.

Some posts will be retrospective hinting at seasonal weather patterns over several seasons. Others will be current. I might also include some rough sketches of plants and wildlife. Though I could take pictures using my phone, it is invariably full and I prefer to draw anyway. So join me next time.