Links to Mr. Middleton's weekly tasks first:
June 1st Week
June 2nd Week
June 3rd Week
June 4th Week
June 5th Week
Sunday, June 1st – Soggy Boots, Sunny Spirits
Fellow growers,
The first of June arrived with the full character of a British summer’s day: a sky full of rainclouds by morning, and golden evening light by supper. While the weather played its games, I kept steady with the work at hand — and there was plenty of it.
🌱 Home Front HQ
Much of the day was spent indoors, but not idly. The kitchen table was pressed into service as a temporary potting shed, and I set to work sowing lettuce and cabbage — steady crops for steady folk. There's something deeply satisfying about the sound of compost hitting a seed tray, the rows lined like little regiments awaiting orders.
Delicate hands were needed for pricking out, and I’m happy to say several trays were upgraded from the nursery to the officers’ mess — or at least to larger pots with a bit more legroom. It's always a joy to see them standing taller, proud and ready for planting.
🌤 Allotment on the Evening Watch
Once the rain took its leave and the sun made a brief but gallant appearance, I dashed up to the allotment for a late shift — just under two hours, but a good session all the same.
With the ground nicely softened, weeding was a breeze. There’s nothing quite like tugging a dandelion from damp earth — the whole root comes out like it’s surrendered. The rows of shallots were cleared with military precision; they’ll breathe easier tonight.
I also delivered reinforcements: a crate of seedlings from home found shelter in the polytunnel. They looked a touch travel-weary but none the worse for it. Courgettes were planted out, too — big, bold leaves like ration books fluttering in the breeze, ready to claim their space.
📌 Notes from the Spade:
Keep an eye on slugs after this rain. They march under cover of darkness and feast like kings.
Rainwater barrels are now brimming — good time to give pots a proper soaking while it’s fresh.
Courgettes like a rich soil and wide berth — treat them well and they’ll feed the whole street.
We may not control the weather, but we do command the soil — and with every weed pulled, every seed sown, we inch closer to victory. Onwards, ever onwards.
Yours, in mud and marrow,
— The Chairman’s Spade 🏡🇬🇧
Monday, June 2nd – Sunshine, Shifts & Strategy
Comrades,
What a scorcher of a day — warm from sun-up to sundown, the sort of June weather that makes even the potatoes perk up and salute. But while the garden basked, I was doing my bit elsewhere — a full 12-hour shift at work, boots on the ground in another field entirely.
No time to make the evening patrol to the allotment, but that doesn’t mean the day was idle on the home front.
🏡 Command Centre: Kitchen & Front Garden
After work, I turned my attention to preparations for Saturday’s allotment self-management committee meeting — papers sorted, notes gathered, and ideas jotted down. It’s not all soil and seeds; sometimes victory requires minutes and motions.
As the light began to soften, I took a brief stroll round the front garden and gave the compost bins a once-over. A bit dry on the top, so I added a healthy helping of greens — mostly peelings and trimmings. The worms seemed content enough, wriggling with quiet approval. A quick splash of water and the bins were back to doing their quiet, noble work.
💧 A Little Water Goes a Long Way
A gentle round of watering for the potted plants — just enough to see them through the night. No waste, no fuss. The evenings are warm now, but we’ve learned not to trust the British climate for too long.
🌱 Seeds of Tomorrow
Finally, by the soft glow of a desk lamp and the rustle of seed packets, I sorted through what to sow in June. Plenty still to go in — beetroot, dwarf beans, kohl rabi, and more lettuce (because you can never have too much in a salad-starved summer).
📌 Chairman’s Notes:
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Even a day off the plot can be a day well spent. Strategy and structure are the gardener’s secret weapons.
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Compost is gold in the making — keep feeding it, and it’ll feed you back come autumn.
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Don’t forget to check your watering cans are filled and your seed box is in order — June won’t wait for the dawdlers!
Rest tonight, dig tomorrow.
Yours in brassicas and bureaucracy,
— The Chairman’s Spade 🏡🇬🇧
Tuesday 3rd June:🌧️ Weather: Wet with brief dry spells
Despite the drizzle and damp, I made good my escape to the plot this evening, boots squelching but spirits high. There’s something comforting about the smell of rain-soaked earth and the low hum of an allotment in quiet evening light.
The gooseberry bushes were positively groaning with fruit — I picked a solid half-bucket’s worth and, joy of joys, the very first raspberries of the season: just six, but sweet as summer itself. A small but mighty milestone.
The tomatoes in the polytunnel appreciated a good drink, and while the ground was still soft from the rain, I took the opportunity to weed here and there. Before packing up, I slipped in a final job — planting out a row of shallots that had been waiting patiently in a seed tray for their turn in the soil.
Left the plot around 9pm, damp around the cuffs but grateful for every moment among the green rows and quiet growth.
— In compost and comradeship,
The Chairman’s Spade
Wednesday, June 4th
Though the sun shone a good deal more willingly today than of late, I found myself conscripted to the frontlines of work from first light ‘til well past the supper hour. From 7am to 9pm, duty called and I answered – but not with spade in hand.
Still, all is not lost! A quiet half-hour was spent in the garden shed this evening, bringing some much-needed order to the chaos of the workbench. It’s amazing what a tidy shed can do for one’s spirits – like polishing one’s boots before parade, it puts you in the right frame of mind.
A quick inspection of the seed trays sown on the 1st brought cheer – the cauliflower has begun to stir beneath the soil, tiny green shoots making a brave push skyward. It’s always a heartening sight: nature answering the call with crisp salutes of life.
No allotment visit tonight, but the campaign marches on. As ever, keep digging, keep sowing, and never let a day pass without progress – even if it’s only a tidy bench and a hopeful seedling.
Yours,
The Chairman’s Spade 🥬🛠️🇬🇧
Thursday, 5th June
☔ Weather: Showery with occasional spells of dry
No boots muddied nor spade lifted on the allotment front today, as the skies delivered an unpredictable medley of showers. Instead, I turned my attention indoors, where the soil may be potted, but the spirit remains just as determined.
The evening was spent pottering contentedly in the shed, the faithful sanctuary of every gardener in foul weather. Houseplants received their due—a thorough watering and inspection, particularly the cuttings taken in May. I am pleased to report that many are showing firm signs of rooting—small victories that bring quiet satisfaction.
With Friday bringing an awards evening, and Saturday morning the Allotment Self-Management Committee Meeting – a duty I’ve proudly chaired these past ten years – preparation was in order. Papers sorted, notes made, and the resolve renewed to continue serving both spade and community with equal measure.
There may have been no digging today, but the work of the gardener never truly ceases.
🔧 Till the soil and the spirit, always.
— The Chairman's Spade
Friday June 6th
🌦️ Weather: Mixed but mainly dry,
Dispatch from the Plot
Today, on the 81st anniversary of D-Day, we pause in grateful remembrance of those who gave so much for the freedoms we enjoy today. The spirit of duty and quiet determination they embodied lives on in small but meaningful ways – even down on the allotment.
Work today came in two stints – early to rise for a 6:45am start, then back on the evening shift for the Volunteer Awards, celebrating those who give their time so generously. A humbling day in more ways than one.
In the precious hours between, I made my way to the plot. The soil was calm after recent rains, and the polytunnel plants looked thirsty but hopeful. A good watering soon perked them up. These small acts of care remind us that every little effort adds up – just like it did all those years ago.
I also received word this afternoon that our house sale is nearly over the line – all that remains is to agree the moving date. It seems the time has come to begin the great migration of tools, trays, and treasured seedlings to our cottage home. Much to do, but every journey starts with the first box packed.
Until tomorrow, keep calm, dig on, and let’s honour the past by planting for the future.
Yours in soil and service,
The Chairman’s Spade
🪓Saturday 7th June, 2025
The weather, like a temperamental kettle, boiled and settled throughout the day with heavy showers striking around midday—soaked through my coat and spirit for a time, but as ever, we press on.
This morning at 10 o’clock sharp, I took my seat as Chairman for our allotment’s Self-Management Committee meeting. A familiar duty, though not without its draughts of drama. Three newly elected members continue to view the forum as a battleground for the past, rather than a blueprint for the future. Two others, sadly, seem more attuned to their own plots than the prosperity of the whole site. Still, we dig with dignity and lead by example—we shall steady the ship yet.
Following the meeting, it was back to civilian duties—continuing the Great Migration from the old house to the cottage. Most of the shed was emptied; an emotional unearthing of tools, odds and ends, and memories. Two bicycles, alas, are temporarily without shelter at the new place and will require a home of their own. No doubt a makeshift lean-to will be on the drawing board shortly.
Several cherished plants have been identified for relocation to the cottage garden—a small but meaningful convoy of green recruits ready for new soil. Squash seedlings were potted on and granted temporary quarters on the cottage shed workbench until their billet in the earth is ready.
Tomorrow, the work continues. The land does not rest, and nor shall we.
Yours in soil and solidarity,
– The Chairman’s Spade
Monday, June 9th
Monday dawned under skies as indecisive as a ration book on payday — a flicker of sunshine here and there, swiftly followed by a brooding grey and the now-customary afternoon downpour. The sort of weather that confounds even the most optimistic of gardeners and leaves well-laid plans as sodden as yesterday’s newspaper.
There was, alas, no visit to the allotment today. The day’s duties were reclaimed by work, and by evening, the call of the hoe gave way to the click of the keyboard. But while I wasn’t on the plot, my thoughts certainly were. I set to compiling a new sowing list — crops that might yet fill our larders come the leaner months: beetroot for pickling, perpetual spinach for hardier climes, perhaps another try at kohlrabi (despite last year’s bolting debacle). A wartime gardener would recognise the tactic — when you can’t act, you plan. It’s not quite planting, but it puts purpose in your boots.
On the clerical front, minutes and notes from our most recent committee meeting were duly dispatched to my fellow officers, only to boomerang back, peppered with red ink and requests for clarification. One might think I’d penned them by candlelight in a bomb shelter, not a dining room with decent Wi-Fi. Still, the feedback will be worked through — we may not be facing Luftwaffe raids these days, but anyone who’s chaired an allotment committee knows diplomacy remains a vital tool, second only to the spade.
As the rain rattled the windows, I thought of those wartime diggers — men and women in wellingtons and woollen vests, turning over claggy soil in the hope of a few extra spuds for supper. Their spirit guides us still. Even when the clouds linger, our resolve does not falter. The ground may be wet, but the mission remains dry and clear.
Until next time, keep your forks sharp, your notes readable, and your cabbages under netting.
Yours in muddy solidarity,
By the Chairman’s Spade
Wednesday 11th June — A Day of Diversions
Thursday, June 12th, 2025
A Dispatch from the Home Front
Comrades of the Compost,
The day began heavy with humidity — the sort that makes your shirt cling like a sandbag and brings to mind those muggy July mornings when the sirens had us up before dawn. Rumour had it a Strawberry Moon graced the skies last night, though from the vantage of the cottage, where the trees rise like sentries at every corner, the heavens were more suggestion than spectacle. Still, one imagines it hanging there like a ripe ration, glowing over the patchwork plots of the nation.
At 1600 hours I was released from official duties, the daily work done, and I reported once more to the old residence — keys in hand, determination in heart. Operation Greenhouse Removal entered its final phase. By 2100 hours, the structure that once nurtured tomatoes, aubergines, and no shortage of memories was fully dismantled.
Casualties, I regret to report, were not insignificant: a further clutch of glazing clips vanished into the long grass of time, two bolts fell heroically in the line of duty, and in the final tally, four panes of glass will not see another summer. A small price to pay in the wider war for sustainability. While clearing the last of the frame, I uncovered a modest arsenal of long-forgotten equipment — trowels, seed trays, and mystery devices no doubt purchased in some fever of horticultural optimism during quieter years. They shall return with me to the front lines in due course.
No visit to the allotment today — a rare absence, but even the tireless need reprieve. Instead, I turned my attentions to the front garden, nurturing our fledgling floral reinforcements. As the clock passed 2215 hours and twilight finally gave way, I packed away the last of the pots, satisfied with a day's toil well spent.
The war for the soil is not won in a single day, nor a single season. But with each pane removed, each forgotten tool reclaimed, and every seedling cared for, we press ever forward.
Onward, ever onward — till the harvest is ours.
– By the Chairman’s Spade
"Even the moon must yield to the garden's call."
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