The first week of 2026 has slipped by in a mixture of celebration, cold weather, small triumphs, and quiet planning — the kind of start that feels true to January, when the garden sleeps but the gardener doesn’t quite know how to.
1st January — Easing Into the Year
New Year’s Day passed in a soft, contented blur. With family still staying over after the celebrations, the allotment remained untouched, and that felt exactly right. The house carried that gentle, cosy atmosphere that follows a late night of good company.
Instead of heading to the plot, I turned to the last of Tuesday’s apples. Several went into an apple and sultana cake for afternoon tea, filling the kitchen with warm, spiced sweetness — a small, satisfying farewell to the previous year’s harvest. Later, when the house quietened, I leafed through the seeds I’d bought back in November: basil, Cosse Violette climbing beans, Cucumber Gherkin National, Sweet Pea Beaujolais, Welsh Onion, and Winter Squash Little Gem. Each packet felt like a promise.
It also reminded me just how many seeds I’ve accumulated. A proper catalogue and viability test is overdue, but that can wait for a quieter moment. The first day of the year was for easing in, enjoying family, and letting the first thoughts of spring take root.
2nd January — First Visit of the Year
The allotment was unusually still when I arrived — that post-holiday quiet when the world hasn’t quite woken up. The air hovered around +5°C, cold enough to nip but not freeze.
The polytunnel cover had shifted again in the New Year’s Eve winds, so the first job was pulling it back into place and securing it. A familiar dance by now.
I’d brought the Senshyu onion sets that had been living in the glove box since September, along with a garlic bulb waiting patiently for its moment. The right-hand bed, once home to Mexican Tree Spinach, was cleared and replanted with three rows of onions and one of garlic — late, but still worthwhile.
Self-sown Mustard Ruby Streaks appeared as small surprises in the soil, and I lifted and replanted them into neat rows in the front-right bed. The left-hand bed, a patchwork of half-finished intentions, got its first steps toward order: Alchemilla lifted and potted, and a continuous row of green Swiss Chard established.
By the time the sky darkened and a few drops of rain began to fall, the plot looked a little more hopeful — the first visit of the year complete.
3rd January — A Day at Home
No allotment visit today. The day was spent taking down Christmas decorations and doing a bit of shopping — the usual early-January reset.
4th January — Winter Growth and Winter Jobs
A cold, still day on the plot, but the beds were quietly thriving. Cardoons, Alchemilla mollis, Mustard Ruby Streaks, curly parsley, mizuna, winter purslane, leeks, cauliflower, spring cabbage, and spring onions all held their ground. The rhubarb had begun to push through — a small but cheering sign.
One garlic clove had been lifted by a bird, a minor irritation but part of the rhythm of winter gardening.
Most of the day was spent tidying, clearing rubbish, and making early progress on securing the new polytunnel cover and starting the new entrance. Away from the soil, there was administrative work too — adding context to an eviction letter for a tenant who hadn’t paid rent or fees for three months. Not pleasant, but necessary for the health of the site.
5th January — Snow, Ice, and Indoor Gardening
No visit today. Work filled the day, and the weather wouldn’t have allowed much anyway. Snow and ice covered the ground, with temperatures dropping to –5°C. Everything felt frozen into stillness.
The only gardening progress was indoors: a small seed-sorting session in the evening. Just enough to feel connected to the season, even if only from the warmth of the house.
6th January — A Frozen Plot and a Planning Day
The allotment remained untouched again today. Snow and ice still covered every bed, path, and shed roof, turning the site into a quiet white landscape. It was the kind of cold that refuses to budge.
With no practical work possible, the day became one of planning — thinking about what needs renovating once the thaw comes, and which seeds will be first to wake when the light returns. Even in stillness, the allotment keeps me looking forward.
