It’s getting on for the end of the year. Christmas is almost upon us. The nights are drawing in and the temperature is distinctly cooler. Our allotment, and that of our fellow allotmenteers, is dormant. A few plants refuse to knuckle under winter’s onset. Winter vegetables huddle down, stubbornly awaiting the impending frosts, and the sky is bereft of birdsong. The sun is weak, and the heady days of spring and summer are a fading memory. It’s a far cry from the early months when, with a glint in our eyes, we strode purposefully down to our hallowed ground, picked up our hoes, spades, and rakes, and enthusiastically attacked the barren earth, hoping that this year would bring the bumper harvest, so beloved by gardening magazines. But it’s been a…
