On early-summer trips to the plot, I arrive some time after 5am to the sight of a young fox slinking through to the den at the back. Otherwise, it is just me, the dew, the rising sun.
Yes, I welcome the later evenings. Relaxed after gardening, maybe a few allotment neighbours scattered around. The sense of satisfaction, jobs completed. But it has always been morning for me, when the plot calls keenest.
