This time of year is so exciting with speckles of green popping up everywhere and the sense of possibility everywhere you look.

At home the sweet peas, tomatoes and leeks in the outside greenhouse are looking good despite some slug or snail that is doing the rounds in there (I'm going to get it tonight armed with a torch and a heavy boot). In the house, the fragile celeriac seedlings have been transplanted into individual modules and the various squashes are coming through. Out on the allotment our carrot and parsnip seeds we sowed in February have finally made an appearance (it wasn’t too early after all) but it has to be said that they came up at the same time as the same seeds sown a month later. Also up are the peas, broadbeans, rocket, spinach, beetroot, radish, lettuce, coriander, sorrel and dill. The Anya potatoes we planted in early March popped their heads up a week ago but I had to promptly rake them over with soil as a frost was forecast that night.

But, the pièce de résistance has got to be the asparagus bed. What a sight! The spears look like something out of Dr Who as they push their purple heads up through the soil. We planted the crowns last year in trenches 15cm deep in two rows of five crowns. We let all the spears grow and then cut the foliage down in the autumn after it had turned yellow. A couple of weeks ago I noticed that the cow manure we had put on the bed in the winter had formed a solid crust so I lifted it all off and replaced it with a bag of stable manure bought from the local garden centre that was much more crumbly in texture. I also sprinkled over some fish, blood and bone. Within a week the first spear was up (good timing I say, especially as one of the spears showed signs that it had been banging its head against ‘a brick wall’ and had decided to start growing back down into the ground - see photo).Anyway, the first spear was ready before any others had caught up and so it was ceremoniously cut and the honour given to Thomas to cook it. Mm. I’m sure it would have tasted good except that I couldn’t find it, chopped up as it was into tiny little pieces and tossed into a risotto! I think I’ll be in charge of cooking it from now on!

I have now reached a dilemma as I don’t know how many of the spears I am supposed to cut. I understand that the issue is to do with conserving the crowns’ energy and so ensuring a good harvest for next year: to cut only the thick spears, to cut only a few from each crown, to cut all of them but for only six weeks instead of eight... Help! I am reminded of my first pregnancy and reading every book I could get my hands on but every one seeming to give different advice on the whole business. I find that gardening can be the same. It can be exciting and full of anxiety at the same time. I blame the books – they never say the same thing. It is probably no coincidence therefore, that the book I’m currently reading is called ‘The Anxious Gardener’ by Rozsika Parker.   

This crop of asparagus made it to the table 'whole' and were lovely with hollandaise sauce.

Joseph and Aaron count the asparagus spears.

It is another glorious morning. There has been a sharp frost in the night but the only sign of it now is a few patches of glittering white on the roofs. I know that when I meet one of our neighbours our greeting will include a comment about the weather. Oh what it is to live in England! But, add to the equation an owner of an allotment, or veg grower and then you have double the reason to talk about the weather. Not just because it’s polite, but because it is near on vital to know what the weather has done/is doing/ is going to do if you want to make the best of growing your own.

Personally, I have never been one for weather watching unlike my husband, Thomas who was brought up on ‘the weather’. I’ve bought him outdoor thermometers for Christmas and if you want to know what the forecast is on any one of several websites, just ask him. But now, as a grower of fruit and veg I have a little more interest.

So, after discussions with Nick I took the plunge a couple of weeks ago and planted two lines of Anya potatoes. He said that they are vulnerable to frost so I will keep an eye out for them coming up so I can cover them with fleece. We had already put manure on that part of the allotment and I finished the planting with a dressing of fish blood and bone. I had meant to rake it in first but I forgot.

 Talking of manure and fertilizer, it is still a topic of much confusion to me. What am I supposed to put on what bed and when? What plants like manure? Can you put manure on in the spring? Will the plants die if I do? What fertilizer should I use and when? What is and isn’t organic? Oh, the agony. Last year I threw on the odd handful of chicken manure here and there on the beds but it was all about luck rather than judgement. This year, I have taken note that most of the gardening books we have talk about ‘raking in a general fertilizer’ either when planting or a few weeks before. Therefore, I have bought a box of fish blood and bone and will throw that on randomly instead!

Finally, last week Thomas installed our raspberries. We have covered all bases with five plants each of early, mid, late summer and autumn fruiting raspberries: Glen Moy, Malling Jewel, Malling Leo or General (there is some disagreement between Thomas and I what we actually bought. I think the second label on the ‘Malling Leo’ which says ‘General’ actually means ‘general information’!) and Autumn Gold. We copied Hilary’s set up and put them in two lines, 5-6 foot apart and put down weed suppressing membrane in between. I was really pleased with our two straight lines of nicely ordered raspberries until that is, I arrived at the allotment this week to find Stuart and Lindsey had planted their new Malling Minerva raspberry canes (see photo).  I love the idea of planting raspberries in a wigwam but I’m going to have to settle for growing our runner beans like that instead.  

Stuart with his new wigwam of raspberries