Having an allotment isn’t the same as having a vegetable patch in the garden. There’s something about the sense of shared endeavour – the fair exchange of cups of tea and know-how – that means an allotment is not just a place but also a state of mind.

The selection features poems that revel in the good-natured competition that inevitably arises: who has grown the biggest onion and whose weeds are most to be frowned upon. There are also slugs and worms, aching backs and roughened hands – all seasoned by the heady tang of manure.

But the abiding spirit is the pleasure that comes from tending a small patch of earth, the deep joy afforded by taking part in the year’s repeating patterns of planting and harvesting:

“She places each first early
on its smelly bed. Delicate as eggs they sit
until he spades the soil over. Buried treasure.”

from ‘Allotment’ by Vivienne Tregenza