Allotmenteer

  🔧 Your February Maintenance Check: Sheds, Fences, and Water Butts February is the month where the plot quietly tells you what didn’t survive winter. Nothing dramatic — just the slow reveal of loose felt, sagging boards, and taps that drip only when you’re not looking. This is the moment to deal with the small failures before they become big ones. You don’t need perfect weather for any of this. Most of it can be done in boots, gloves, and a stubborn mood. Checking guttering A shed gutter is one of those things you forget exists until it overflows directly onto your neck. A quick February check is usually enough: Clear leaves and moss Make sure the downpipe hasn’t shifted Check brackets for cracks Look for leaks during the next shower If you’re already on the plot in the rain, the Weather Against You post (No. 7) has a list of jobs you can do while sheltering. Securing shed felt Wind is the enemy here. February storms find every loose edge. Look for: Lifted corners Exposed nails ...

🌱 What You Can Actually Do on the Plot in February Not the Instagram version — the real one. February is the month where enthusiasm and reality collide. The light is improving, the seed packets are whispering to you, and every part of you wants to start . But the plot has its own timetable, and February rewards the people who work with it, not against it. This is what you can genuinely get done — without damaging the soil, wasting effort, or pretending it’s spring already. Clearing dead material This is the quiet, satisfying work that makes everything easier later. You’re not trying to “tidy” the plot into submission — just removing the stuff that’s genuinely in the way: Last year’s stems that have collapsed Leaves that are smothering crowns Anything harbouring slugs Wind‑blown debris If you’re unsure what tools are actually worth bringing for this kind of job, the Tools post on the Allotmenteer blog keeps it simple and realistic. Lifting and dividing rhubarb Rhubarb is one of the fe...

  Working the Plot When the Weather Is Against You February is a month that lies to you. One minute it’s bright enough to make you think spring has arrived, and the next you’re stood in a sideways drizzle wondering why you bothered leaving the house. The trick isn’t to fight the weather or pretend you’re tougher than you are. The trick is knowing what work actually makes sense when the ground is cold, wet, or simply not cooperating. This is the honest version — the jobs you can do, the ones you shouldn’t, and the ones that only take five minutes between showers. When the soil is too wet to touch If the ground squelches under your boots, walk away. Working wet soil does more harm than good — compaction now means misery later. But you can still get things done: Check beds for pooling water Clear debris from paths Empty old pots and stack them Sweep the shed Sort canes, ties, and labels Make a note of anything that needs repairing These are the quiet jobs that make spring easier. When...

What to Bring to the Plot in February:  A Realistic Kit List I probably should have posted this first, because February is the month where having the right things with you makes the difference between a decent session and going home cold, wet, and annoyed. It’s not about packing for an expedition — it’s about bringing the few bits that actually earn their place in your bag. A simple haversack or shoulder bag is ideal. Nothing technical. Just something you can sling over your shoulder, reach into easily, and not worry about getting muddy. If you want ideas for bags that work well for this sort of thing, there’s a link at the bottom to a post on the Fieldcraft blog. Gloves that still work when wet Most gloves are brilliant until they get damp, and then they turn into cold sponges. A cheap pair of nitrile‑coated gloves will keep your hands warm enough and still let you grip tools properly. Bring two pairs. One will get soaked. A flask A hot drink isn’t a luxury in February — it’s surv...

  Traveller’s Potato Soup: Simple Allotment Cooking for Beginners February isn’t a month for new potatoes, but it is the month when you start thinking about them. The seed spuds are chitting on the windowsill, the beds are slowly taking shape again, and you can almost taste that first bowl in early summer. For now, it’s stored maincrops doing the work — earthy, reliable, and still carrying the memory of last year’s sun. Allotment cooking isn’t about hardship or pretending you’re on some grand expedition. You’re not surviving; you’re simply enjoying yourself on your plot with a warm drink, a quiet moment, and something honest bubbling away. A folding stove, a small pot, and a few straightforward ingredients are all you need. Victorian travellers cooked this way because it worked, not because it was romantic. The same principle applies here: keep it steady, keep it safe, keep it simple. A handful of potatoes, a spoon of fat, a pinch of herbs, and clean drinking water. That’s it. You...

  The Taste of Real Allotment Cooking There’s a particular flavour that comes from cooking with what you’ve grown yourself. It’s simpler than what most people are used to — in the best possible way. Modern food leans on stock cubes, thickeners, stabilisers, and a long list of extras designed to make everything taste identical. Allotment cooking doesn’t bother with any of that. It’s just real ingredients doing their own work, the way they always have. Take new potatoes. Freshly lifted, still carrying the cool scent of the soil, they bring a natural sweetness and creaminess you’ll never get from a supermarket bag. Cook them gently with a little fat, herbs, and water, and they thicken the broth themselves. No flour, no cream, no fuss. The result isn’t silky like a café soup — it’s rustic, soft‑edged, and honest. A broth that clings lightly to the spoon because the potatoes have given you everything they’ve got. The fat adds a quiet richness. A spoon of lard or dripping gives warmth an...