The plot is in its high-summer pomp. Twin towers of heavily coloured and scented sweet peas. A wall of climbing beans in assorted colours. Six-foot-plus sunflowers about to burst. Everywhere there are bright orange flashes of calendula and Cosmos sulphureus. Our new autumn beds are starting to open up. The crimson-flowered broad beans have been cropped and lifted, shared with Howard for perfect summer dinners. Assorted autumn salad leaves have been sown in their place (Italian chicories and mixed mizunas, pak choi and Purple Frills mustard). Plus, a slight scattering of Empress of India nasturtium for their colour and peppery garnish. I am mostly there on early weekday visits for watering, an occasional light seaweed feeding, to catch sight of the young fox. He (I think it is a he) has, it seems, taken to lying in our flower beds, leaving flattened calendula, some scattered remains of pigeon wing in his wake. We sometimes face off on my arrival before he reluctantly makes way, sloping off into the trees that line the site. I pick the broken flower stems and take them home. The paths to the plot are lined with our neighbours’ hollyhocks, Verbena bonariensis and flowering fennel. The site is idyllic, small (arond 30-odd plots) and all-organically grown, situated at the top of Hampstead, nudging the heath. There are regular communal clear-ups, growers gathering to tidy and eat together. To maybe give away courgettes. Howard joins me on some weekend mornings. Our homemade comfrey fertiliser tea is brewing. It will soon be time to dilute and spray it around before anyone else arrives – its pungent odour can still come as a shock. We potter about, pick flowers and any edible leaves that might take our fancy. I may bring tea and buns. Howard may take a few perfect photos. Mostly, we take quiet pleasure in each other’s company. But now what are your favourite – and least favourite – summer gardening jobs?