November; the year’s last loveliest smile, the ground is freckled with fallen leaves, the orchards with fallen fruit. Plot 34 is settling down for the winter. Beds are emptying and my favourite farmer has supplied me with well-rotted manure.

People sometimes ask what I use to produce such healthy looking vegetables and I say it has to be the manure that makes the difference. I have cabbages planted in two different plots with and without the benefit of last winter’s manuring, both areas planted on the same day.

One lot is doing fine but the others are super sized. It’s hard to get manure in the city – horse manure is plentiful but it’s often full of sawdust. Some years back I came home from work to find my husband standing in the drive looking smug with a trailer load of real farmyard manure behind him, all decked out with Christmas lights. I was thrilled – the neighbours must have thought I was a fruitcake. Anyway, now that I have my source, acquiring it is no longer a problem.

There is still plenty to do in the plot – weeding and general tidying, fixing edges and removing others, clearing debris and filling black bags with leaves for mulch. However, there is much more to do in the kitchen these evenings as I bring home the contents of a bed – Beetroot to make relish, leeks for soup, spinach for everything, celery for juices, kale for colcannon and lettuce for lunches.

I had a lovely incident in school recently when one lad said to me: “Miss! I grew the lettuces like you said in me Ma’s front garden.” And sure enough he brought me in one and we spent 40 minutes discussing the virtues of growing your own. He now has cabbages and leeks planted for the winter in the same front garden. It’s days like that which makes me say: ‘I love my job.’

My wildflowers are still blooming in vibrant reds, yellows and oranges and supplying the house with cut flowers. Even a walk in the park these days produces a usable crop. Our park has crab apple trees in the hedgerows and I can’t resist making apple jelly. It conjures up happy memories of childhood when we had washed flour bags filled with pulp hanging from hooks in the kitchen ceiling.

We would spoon a dollop of the jelly on to rice pudding, which was a regular desert of farmhouse kitchens. Now we have it for breakfast as an alternative to marmalade. As I write, I have a jelly bag hanging in the utility room dripping away ready for making into jelly in the morning.

Getting out in the fresh air and close to nature for many of us city dwellers means taking a walk in the mountains or along the canals, something my farming brother can’t get his head around: “You mean to say you walk on up the hill and then you walk back down again and you’re not after a sheep or a heifer.”

I love hill walking. I am part of a club and walk regularly. It’s perfect for the scenery, the banter and getting to know the country, but there is nothing like physically handling soil for getting you close to nature and then bringing home a basket load of produce. It never fails to lift the spirits.

My year in the plot is near its end. This evening as I dug and trimmed some leeks, the air actually smelled like dinner time. I like to empty out my plot and put it to bed under a blanket of manure, all tucked up with a cover of black plastic sheeting. This gives both me and it a rest and come next February I’ll be all enthusiastic and ready to start over again.

I will still have my cabbages, kale, sprouts and garlic growing over the winter, but they won’t need much minding. Winter has always been the time for mending and for repairing the tools for the new year. While I will be mending, it will be with a needle and thread as I finish the quilt top I have pieced together and the other craft projects I started but never finished. For now though, it’s time to move on to Christmas baking and filling the house with the smell of cinnamon, cloves and spice.

A huge thank you to Irish Country Living and editor Mairead Lavery for giving me the opportunity to share my absolute passion for my wee plot in the city. The photo sessions with Ramona Farrelly were as close as I’ll ever get to glamour. I know from your letters that some people took the journey with me. I enjoyed it all. It’s not just a good life, it’s a great life!

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I have made all sorts of beetroot pickles over the years but this is by far the best recipe – it is simple and quick and adapts easily to bulk quantities. I got it from my sister who got it from her mother-in-law, so you could say it’s a family recipe.

Beetroot relish

5 medium beetroot

100 g caster sugar

250ml vinegar (half red wine, half malt)

1 onion chopped

Half red pepper chopped

1tsp salt

1 Have the jars ready. You’ll need five or six plus lids, washed and sterilised in the oven or run them through the dishwasher. I boil the lids in a saucepan.

2 Boil the beetroot for around 30 minutes, then chop it up and into the pot. Add in the onion, pepper salt and vinegar and bring to the boil. Simmer for 30 minutes, adding the sugar for the last five minutes. Pour into the sterilised jars and immediately screw on the lids. As with all pickles and relishes, they are best left to mature and mellow for a few months.

Crab Apple Jelly

For this you will need a jelly bag or some muslin or light cotton to let the juice drip through. I happen to have a handy husband who put a hook into the ceiling for me to hang my jelly bags, but you can hang the bag from a rail resting between two chairs. Jellies are made with the juice strained from the simmered fruit. The secret to a beautiful clear jelly is NOT to interfere with the bag – just let it drip. You can use ordinary cooking apples for this but the crab apples give the loveliest of red colour to the jelly. The quantity of apples is not so important. The juice is measured and pint for pound of sugar used.

1 Wash the apples and place in a pot just covered with water. Add a teaspoon of whole cloves. Bring to the boil and simmer until the apples are mushy. Then pour all the pulpy mash through a jelly bag and let it drip through over night. Next day, measure the juice and discard the pulp (unless you plan to make apple butter).

2 For every pint of juice, weigh out a pound (500g) of normal table sugar. Warm the sugar in the oven. Sterilise the jars and lids. For jelly I use small 4oz jars.

3 Bring the juice to the boil and add in the warmed sugar. Stir until it is completely dissolved then turn up the heat and bring to a rolling boil until setting point is reached – about 10 minutes. Don’t skim until the end. Have a few side plates in the freezer and place a spoon full of juice on the plate and run your finger through – if it wrinkles it’s ready. Skim off any scum, use a piece of tissue to get the last bits. You can add a few drops of red food colouring if you want a lovely autumnal colour.

4 Pot the jelly immediately and seal with the lids. Label the jars and put some pretty fabric covers on with ribbon. Enjoy.