Harvest open day at the community farm. The team has everything ready: the gazebos are up, the tea urns ready, scones and cakes laid out, and in the field the crops are ready to be gathered.
The apps say heavy rain, but apps ain’t always right, and farmers more than anyone are used to the whims of the weather gods. Rose and Ruth, the farm’s chief growers, decide to keep calm and carry on.
When I arrive, their optimism appears to have paid off. The clouds are low and grey, but it’s not actually raining. I walk past the Caractacus Potts-style compost loo and along the grassy path between the veg beds where a scarecrow stands guard in a red jumper. Suddenly, the wind picks up and everything goes pear-shaped. People rush in to help. I hang on to one gazebo’s leg for dear life as the other careens across the field like a massive, mechanical crane fly. The team wrestle it to the ground and we manage to safely disassemble them both.
We retreat to the polytunnel – this year’s addition to the farm – taking shelter among the tomatoes, aubergines and melons. The wind drops, the rain clears and Rose takes me on a tour. This land was a blank field just two years ago, when the town council took it on as part of Wellington’s green corridor. Now there are rows of brassicas nestled under white mesh, rainbow chard that glows magenta and gold, pumpkins and squash strung out on the ground like huge orange and yellow fairylights.
The crops have struggled in this summer’s drought, but there is still much to celebrate. “Every town and village should have a community growing project,” Rose says, “but these need start-up funds and resources. A truly resilient local food system is good for nature, good for health and communities.”
Adaptable, flexible and resilient, our community farm can cope with whatever the weather throws at us. I walk home past the town’s old mill ponds – the Basins – carrying sunflowers, tomatoes, fresh basil and chard. The ducks pay no attention to the union flag shoved in the middle, laughing their mallard laughs as it hangs there, risible and limp.