September and October 2022: Moving home with the plants and trees from my allotments

I made the toughest, bravest, most stressful decision I’ve ever made - not (after seven years 10 months), to renew my two precious allotment tenancies. My plots have roused and healed so much in me, but at 47 I want to do more with my gardening and with my life.

I was in a good place at the time: my ‘allotment grown’ food and drink had become more popular with buyers at local car boot sales (repeat customer, Jamie, commented that my cordial was the most beautiful thing he’d ever tasted). This was wholly exhilarating; a feeling only deepened by my discovery of Sandor Ellix Katz’s book, Wild Fermentation.

Also members of the Permies online community were incredibly supportive, which was invaluable.

There’s a lot of information out there about taking on an allotment / community garden, but little about how to say goodbye to this kind of sacred space, therefore in this blog post I’d like to talk in detail about my experience of leaving in the hope that it might help others.

I spent three weeks of sleepless nights in conflict about making such a massive personal sacrifice, but then I thought about the other sacred spaces in my life: my yoga and Paris (France). I’ve morphed as a yogi and travelled beyond Paris, yet both remain in my heart plus it dawned on me that I can still grow organic produce for my food and drink in our garden or even indoors.

The unknown unfailingly assists me whenever I take risks, often in the form of signs: First, a miracle! At Collier Row car boot I found a baby snail on one of the plants I was selling. As I sold the plant, I slid him onto a bush in a pot that was also on my table to save him from getting crushed underfoot. Two weeks later I found this snail on the exact same bush (in the meantime he’d accompanied me to multiple other markets)! I thought he’d died but after I sprinkled him with water he came to life. I released him into the garden hoping that he’d stick around. Maybe this little guy was reminding me that nature and its creatures are resilient and that I am and always will be a caring part of it. It was also a profound lesson in letting go. Shortly after this a YouTube video; Word Works: Ellen Bass on Controlled Chaos showed up, which seemed apt for what I was going through.

The Wheaton Labs permaculture and homesteading boot camp based in Missoula, Montana, USA, really appeals to me. I even bought a four-season tent in preparation (I need my own company at night) and noticed a quote on the side of my pot noodle container during my first night camping in the garden: “Fortune favours the bold so be bold. Let fortune smile on you. Smile back.” - www.potnoodle.com

Wild camping is permitted all over Norway (I’ve always wanted to visit and am learning Norwegian), and I see my tent as a new ‘retreat’; the perfect replacement for my allotment shed.

I was grateful that I didn’t feel I wanted to cling to my allotments after making my choice, in fact on ‘listening’ to them, they revealed the way: I thanked the trees and told them that they were going to get new owners but that part of them was coming with me, and my commitment to yin yoga kept me in touch with how I was really feeling. Despite my heartbreak I managed to say a proper goodbye; breathing in the scent of a perfect cream rose with pink spots, and recent rainfall made it easier to transplant my broccoli, asparagus, kale and Brussels sprouts. Jody the allotment cat’s antics and rainbow carrots with rude bulges kept me laughing, plus curiously a row of Paris onions that had completely disappeared in the late summer, all appeared again!

I learnt an enormous amount about methodically taking cuttings and saving seeds from all of the species I’d loved for so long, and may have even helped permie, Ara, save her bay tree by encouraging her to take a branch cutting before she moved. Only some daffs that were difficult to get to, a conifer and poached egg plant as a surprise for whoever takes over, remained.

My attention then turned to willing all of the cuttings to survive past a week, then past two weeks, and mercifully the ones in water are all looking healthy as are some carnations I dipped in honey and cinnamon to promote rooting.

The grief and guilt at ‘abandoning’ my allotments I’m experiencing the more that time passes, hurts a lot, I feel shut in and right now am doubting I have the strength to fight my demons in order to keep taking active steps towards my dreams. Change is messy, though, and I don’t regret my decision.