Soil

Friday 27th November, 2020

Although I make myself walk most days I do it with a heavy heart at times. Of course finding apples to scrump makes a difference. If added to that there is a good 'reduced' edible for lunch at the local shop then I feel even better. But the Covid period has meant I no longer collect for Charities or work in Charity shops. Nor can I be galvanised by an invite to some event or even a meal. I feel flaccid. I think the religious term might include accidie.

Whatever today I had an invite and request to help my friend on her allotment. She needed to remove the cage netting over her fruit bushes for fear snow might fall and drag the netting a cage poles down. It had happened some years ago. Rather reluctantly I agreed. So I drove over the Tay bridge to Dundee and popped in to the well fortified local bank to draw out some pounds which I owed the aforesaid friend for her purchase of some books. The City seemed quiet and I thought of the crisis looming on the High Streets. Various shops had indeed shut and gone. The Christmas lights were up and switched on yet somehow did not bring much cheer. I am not a fan of the razzmatazz of Christmas but realise it is enjoyed by children and party goers, so I hope they get some joy out of it.

I arrived at the allotment. I was horrified to see the destruction wrought by a Council Tractor Hedge cutter which had decimated not only the hedges but much of the pathway and paving to the allotment gate. They had, it was pointed out, destroyed eight hazel trees and knocked some of the stone walling.

Once inside the allotment I felt a surge of energy. The soil rang out to me. The net was soon removed and stored, the bean poles cleared and stacked and I inspected the leeks and garlics. I wandered about the full acreage and saw that much had been put to sleep for winter yet already there were signs of new growth. The fresh air was a tonic.

I legally popped in for a coffee as we have a bubble arrangement. Then I decided to walk the Tay embankment. I walked over two if not three miles. The cold fresh wind whipped off the Tay and within minutes I was warmed and ruddied. Not many were walking so I had the stretch to myself. Under the Tay Rail Bridge, passed the Memorial to the disaster of the initial bridge's collapse and then down the McGonogall Walk. He was a very bad poet, in my opinion, whose poem on the disaster at the time was famous and much read. It has been carved in to a stone pavement, beautifully carved but the carving does not save the purple sentimental prose!

Back to my car and across the bridge with eight large apples rescued from the allotment skip. I have since stewed them and had a cup of tea and now I hunker down for a quiet book filled evening....and a baked apple with thickened cream, sugar, butter and raisins. I feel suitably tired and fulfilled. What a blessing.