You Don't Have to Keep Up With Your Allotment — Here's What I Actually Ignore

One of the strange things about having an allotment is that you never actually finish.

You can spend three hours down there, come home feeling like you've achieved loads, and still be able to look back over your shoulder and see something that needs doing.

There's another patch of weeds.

Something needs tying up.

A bed needs clearing.

Something probably should have been sown three weeks ago.

And according to somebody on the internet, you're already late for something you should have planted for next year (Purple Sprouting Broccoli for me... every single year).

I've gradually realised that trying to keep up with all of it isn't actually the point.

Because if you're fitting your allotment around work, family and everything else life throws at you, there is no realistic point where everything is going to be finished.

So I've stopped trying to do everything.

Here are some of the things I now quite happily ignore.

I Don't Try to Keep the Whole Plot Weed-Free

This one took me a while.

When I first started, a patch of weeds felt like a job that needed doing.

If I could see weeds, I should remove them.

Simple.

Except that an allotment can produce weeds considerably faster than one person with a hoe can remove them.

So I've changed the question I ask.

Instead of:

"Are there weeds here?"

I ask:

"Are these weeds actually causing me a problem?"

That's different.

If they're seeding everywhere, competing with something I want to grow, blocking a path or making it difficult to get at something I need to harvest, they're getting dealt with.

If they're in an empty corner and aren't currently causing any trouble?

They might stay there.

A few weeds aren't a failed allotment.

Sometimes they're just weeds.

And if I've got 45 minutes at the plot, I'd rather spend that time harvesting something useful, fixing something that's actually broken or preparing an area I'm going to use than spend the whole visit trying to make every square metre look immaculate.

That doesn't mean I don't bother weeding.

It means I prioritise it.

There's a difference.

I Don't Grow Things Just Because I Can

This is another one I've become much more ruthless about.

There are an awful lot of things you can grow.

That's one of the best things about having an allotment.

It's also one of the easiest ways to fill an allotment with things you don't actually want.

You see a variety you've never tried.

Someone recommends something.

You find a packet of seeds at the back of the cupboard.

You read about another crop that apparently grows brilliantly at this time of year.

And before you know it, you've allocated valuable space to something you might not even eat.

I've started asking a much simpler question:

Do we actually want to eat this?

If the answer is no, it has to work pretty hard to earn a place on the plot.

Space is valuable.

So is my time.

And I've come to the conclusion that the best crop isn't necessarily the one that produces the biggest harvest.

It's the one that produces something you actually want to eat.

That's why I'm increasingly happy to grow more of the things that work for us and less of the things that I'm growing simply because they're interesting.

The allotment doesn't have to be a catalogue of everything that can possibly be grown.

It can just grow the things you like.

I Don't Try to Get Every Bed Looking Perfect

There is a particular sort of allotment that exists on the internet.

Every bed is beautifully edged.

The soil is immaculate.

The paths are clear.

Everything appears to be in exactly the right place.

I'm sure these allotments exist in real life.

Mine certainly doesn't.

And I'm increasingly comfortable with that.

A bed doesn't have to look perfect to be useful.

A slightly untidy area isn't automatically a problem.

A bit of soil showing between crops isn't a gardening emergency.

And I don't need every edge to be perfectly straight before I can go home.

Sometimes the bed is simply not today's priority.

That's especially important when you've only got a limited amount of time.

If I've got an hour, I want to come away knowing I've done something useful.

Not necessarily that I've made the whole plot look better.

There's a difference between making progress and making things look finished.

I'll take progress.

I Don't Clear Everything the Second a Crop Finishes

There's a temptation, particularly towards the end of the growing season, to look at a crop that's finished and immediately think:

Right. That's got to come out.

Sometimes it does.

Sometimes clearing a finished crop gives you useful space for something else.

Sometimes leaving it there just creates a bigger job later.

But not every finished crop needs to be dealt with immediately.

I ask a few questions first.

Is it definitely finished?

Is it diseased?

Is it getting in the way?

Do I need the space?

Is leaving it there going to create a problem?

If the answer to all of those is no, it might not be today's job.

This is something I'm getting better at generally.

The fact that something could be done doesn't mean it needs to be done now.

And that's quite an important distinction when your allotment time is limited.

I Don't Chase Every Sowing Window

The gardening calendar can make you feel like you're constantly late.

You should have sown this.

You should have planted that.

You should have started something six weeks ago.

You missed the window.

Game over.

Except gardening isn't really like that.

Sometimes you can sow something late.

Sometimes you can buy a plug plant.

Sometimes you can grow something else.

Sometimes you can simply decide that crop isn't happening this year.

And that's fine.

I've definitely had things that were supposed to be sown that didn't get sown.

I've also had things that went in later than recommended and still produced something useful.

Missing one sowing date doesn't mean you now have to reorganise your entire weekend around catching up.

If it can still be done reasonably easily, do it.

If it can't, move on.

There will be another crop.

I Don't Try to Rescue Every Crop

This might be one of the hardest lessons to learn.

You've planted something.

You've spent time on it.

It isn't doing very well.

So naturally you want to save it.

Sometimes that's worthwhile.

Sometimes it really isn't.

A crop can be too late.

It can be damaged.

It can be eaten.

It can be shaded.

It can simply refuse to cooperate.

And at some point you have to ask:

Is this crop worth another hour of my time?

If the answer is no, there's nothing wrong with pulling it out and using the space for something else.

That's not giving up.

It's making a decision.

An allotment is going to produce failures.

Some will be your fault.

Some won't.

Either way, repeatedly throwing time at a crop that isn't going to produce anything useful doesn't make the failure less of a failure.

Sometimes the best thing you can do is move on.

I Don't Do a Job Just Because Someone Says I Should

This is probably the biggest one.

Allotment gardening comes with an enormous number of rules.

You should dig.

You shouldn't dig.

You should mulch.

You should sow this in September.

You should plant that in October.

You should grow this.

You shouldn't grow that.

You should clear everything.

You should leave everything.

After a while, it can feel like you're failing at allotment gardening simply because you aren't doing everything you're supposed to be doing.

Most of that advice has a sensible reason behind it.

The problem is when "you should" turns into "you must."

Your allotment isn't identical to the person giving the advice.

Your soil is different.

Your weather might be different.

Your available time is different.

Your priorities are different.

And perhaps most importantly, you might not even want the same things from your plot.

So I'll happily listen to advice.

I'll take the useful bits.

But I'm not going to turn every gardening recommendation into another job on my list.

So What Do I Actually Prioritise?

Ignoring things doesn't mean doing nothing.

If anything, it means being more deliberate about what I do.

When I've got limited time, I tend to prioritise four things.

1. Things that will become a bigger problem if I ignore them

A small problem is usually much easier to deal with than a big one.

So if something is damaging a crop, blocking access, becoming difficult to control or likely to cause a problem next time I'm there, it moves up the list.

2. Things that produce food

If something is ready to harvest, that's generally a pretty good use of allotment time.

There's not much point spending an hour making a bed look immaculate while ripe vegetables are sitting there waiting to be picked.

Harvesting counts.

It's one of the reasons we're there.

3. Things that will make the next visit easier

This is an underrated one.

Clearing a path.

Fixing something annoying.

Getting one bed into a usable state.

Moving something that's constantly in the way.

These jobs might not produce anything immediately, but they make the next visit easier.

And when you've only got a limited amount of time, that matters.

4. Things that genuinely need doing now

Not things that would be nice to do.

Not things someone on Facebook says I should be doing.

Not something I've suddenly remembered while standing in the shed.

Things that genuinely need doing.

That's a much shorter list.

My 30-Minute Allotment Rule

When I've only got half an hour, I try not to ask:

"What should I do on the allotment?"

That's a dangerous question.

There are always about 47 answers.

Instead I ask:

"What's the one thing that will make the biggest difference in the next 30 minutes?"

Maybe that's harvesting.

Maybe it's fixing something.

Maybe it's clearing one small area.

Maybe it's planting something that actually needs planting.

Maybe it's protecting something before the weather changes.

Sometimes it's simply dealing with the job I've been avoiding for the last three visits.

I pick one.

Then I do it.

And if that's all I get done, that's fine.

Thirty useful minutes is still thirty useful minutes.

You don't need to turn every visit into a full day's work.

If you're trying to make limited time count, I actually think keeping track of what you're harvesting is much more useful than keeping track of everything you haven't managed to do.

The Question I Try to Ask Now

Before I start another job, I try to run it through a very simple filter.

Will ignoring this cause a problem?

If yes, it probably needs doing.

Will doing this make the next visit easier?

If yes, it might be worth doing.

Will it produce something we actually want?

If yes, that's probably a good use of time.

Am I only doing it because I think I'm supposed to?

If so, I stop and think about whether it really matters.

And finally:

Could this wait another week?

If it can, it might not be today's priority.

That's not an excuse to let the whole plot disappear into a jungle.

It's just a way of deciding where the limited hours actually have the most value.

I'm Learning That the Trick Isn't Keeping Up

I used to think the trick to having a good allotment was getting on top of everything.

I'm increasingly convinced it's the opposite.

It's working out what not to bother with.

Because if you've got a job, family, other commitments and only a few hours to spare, you're never going to win a race against an allotment.

There will always be another weed.

Another job.

Another thing you could sow.

Another bed you could tidy.

And that's okay.

The aim isn't to finish.

It's to keep things moving in the right direction.

Grow some good food.

Deal with the problems that actually matter.

Ignore some of the ones that don't.

And enjoy the time you've got down there.

You don't have to keep up with your allotment.

You just have to keep it moving in the right direction.

Because the point isn't to do everything.

It's to make the time you've got count.