N THE SAME WAY that children grow, it felt like it happened overnight. Suddenly, the tasselled grass in the meadow that lies between the allotment and the road was brushing my shoulders, while over on our plot, the squash leaves were the size of umbrellas, the artichokes’ spikey flowers had pumped themselves up to resemble medieval weaponry, and the broad beans — sown late and surely seedlings just yesterday — had become a stocky-stalked thicket swamping
