Ulubiony robote...

We've had a good long spell of dry weather, give or take the odd shower or two. So I took advantage of it to turn over the bit of the plot I am going to use and then plant the potatoes.

It really is my favourite job on the plot, a real reminder that spring is coming and that new potatoes won't be long (about 14 weeks usually, less if I can't wait). So it's out with the soil, down to a spit deep. This is possible on one part but not on the other so it just goes as deep as I can. Line the trench with good rotten cow shit and then gently place the chitted seed potatoes. Draw the soil back over the top, making a little bit of a hillock to show other people I've been busy, then stand back and admire my work.

Planting out at last...

Another weekend of warm weather saw us planting out at the plot. It was warm, sunny, quiet and the soil was dry and crumbly, the fine tilth you hear so much about. I love planting out, checking the distance between the plants, digging the hole and settling them in before a good water to settle them in. I learnt the hard way last year after squeezing in too many savoy cabbages in a small space. I’ve gone a bit mad with the calabrese this year and we have about 30 plants in now and another dozen for our own plot.

One of the reasons we bought a chest freezer was so we could fill it full of produce for over the winter and apart from a few loaves and some rhubarb it’s still pretty much empty, so at least this way we can top it up and have veg for the winter.

We’re trying a new tactic against cabbage white butterflies this year, a concoction of rhubarb leaves, steeped in water for several weeks (longer actually as my dad forgot where he’d put the bucket) and then diluted to spray on the leaves of any brassicas. Apparently the smell masks the scent of cabbage and keeps the butterflies away.

The spinach has already provided us with a superb meal of nalesniki, and so easy to make. There was so much spinach last week we had to freeze three bags of it and I was grateful a carrier bag full of spinach wilts down to a fist-sized freezer bag. Next job is to take some beetroot leaves and make botwinka, a lovely light summer soup. That’ll keep us going until the beets are big enough to make barszcz with, can’t wait.

The lovage has also picked up and shows signs of vigorous growth which is heartening as it looked quite ill for the first couple of weeks. If you've never eaten it, it has a lovely delicate celery taste and is perfect as an addition to salads or soups. Not too much, though, as it can be a little overpowering.

Finally, the most glorious sight on any piece of land, potatoes as far as the eye can see. Well, not really, but not bad. Agnieszka was surprised at how much they’ve grown over the past few weeks. The weather has been good for them, plenty of rain followed by a few dry and sunny days, then plenty more rain.

Finally, the foxgloves given to us by my mum last year are in full bloom, bursting with bumble bees and swaying majestically in the breeze, a lovely sight.

And over that potato-field, a lazy veil of woven sun...

The most important job of the growing year was tackled yesterday – the planting of the potatoes. This year we are trying a different tactic to try to avoid the poor cropping and heavy eelworm infestation of last year. I am trying a couple of new types and planting only earlies or second earlies to give us a chance of getting them out of the ground before the destructive insects get to them. Yesterday was the turn of Accent, three rows of first earlies, 53 tubers.
It was the perfect day for planting: sunny, warm-ish and bright. The robin was bobbing about in the hedge and a blackbird was singing from a tree. The only downside was the constant noise of a motorbike scrambling somewhere on the other side of the railway. When they stopped it was bliss, just the wind and the birdsong, the scent of woodsmoke and the knowledge that a job has been well done. We’ll see how well the spuds do this year.
From Spraying the potatoes:

He turned my way. 'God further the work'.
He echoed an ancient farming prayer.
I thanked him. He eyed the potato drills.
He said: 'You are bound to have good ones there'.