Dung Beetles

A pile of dung and bits of straw and wood chippings was dumped inside the allotment gates on Friday.
Cue the scene on Saturday, everybody rushing for their barrows shouting "There shit goes." It was as if the massive pile of manure was a beached whale and we the benighted islanders of the lost isle of allotments have descended to take our share of sustenance. Wheelbarrowing the sacred loads of the muck to our own little plot. And mounding it and then cuddling it, muttering "my precious, my precious, all mine."

Still seven barrows up the hill has given me a decent pile to play with. With all that, I haven't had any time to do any digging but I have three days off work and am content to spend them digging and mucking around on the allotment.

But I did manage to clear up the remains of the previous owner who must have been a bit of a gardener. He, I'm presuming there but I've got a feeling, has left a large cold frame and a tool box, both in a state of disrepair and some pots and tools left there and a pair of shoes. Ah, That's why I know it's a man.

He has also left a allotment deity, which I found sitting at the foot of what I think is an apple tree.

On the other plot I managed to sow two rows of the parsnips; to see the difference, and under a polythene cloche some short carrots. Also some chives, to see whether they take off.