Howard and I are here to clear. The taller sunflowers are swooning, leaves hanging limp like handkerchiefs. Many of the saffron robe tagetes are bent out of shape. The morning glory structures have had their day. The allotment is in need of intervention.
Hoes and rakes, secateurs, sharp knives, good string: the garden tools of October. I hoe the grass around the edges and between the seedling runs. We pull the ipomoea tents, one now flattened by the brutal courgette.
