The Solo
£14 per week
Seven or eight things for one enthusiastic eater — salads, roots, greens and the week's surprise.
- The weekly note & recipe
- Pause with two days' notice
A no-dig market garden · Totnes
Half Acre is one field, two growers and fifty-two veg boxes a year. Pulled Tuesday morning, packed by noon, on your doorstep Wednesday — dirt still on, flavour still in.

Field to door
Supermarket veg is often weeks old before it reaches a shelf. Here's our whole supply chain, in four steps.
Tuesday, first light. We harvest to the box list, not to a forecast — nothing is pulled that isn't already spoken for.
Cold well water, wooden crates, ruthless honesty: the wonky but perfect go in the boxes, the truly odd go in the soup bag, free.
Every box packed by the person who grew what's in it. The week's note goes on top — what's inside and one honest recipe.
Wednesday morning, by bike trailer in town and the van for the villages. The empty box comes back next week. It's a loop, not a delivery.
The boxes
Weekly, pause any time, no lock-in. Contents change with the season because the field doesn't do repeats.
£14 per week
Seven or eight things for one enthusiastic eater — salads, roots, greens and the week's surprise.
£24 per week
The house box — enough veg to shape the week's cooking for four, with doubles of the staples.
£34 per week
For the fermenters, the batch cookers, the six-person households. A box with ambitions.
The field
We never turn the soil — beds are built up with compost each winter and the worms do the ploughing. It looks like laziness and is actually the whole philosophy: feed the soil, and the soil feeds the plants.
No sprays, no plastic mulch, no tractor. Half an acre worked by hand grows more than you'd believe and wastes almost nothing.
In season
A rolling snapshot — the boxes follow whatever's proudest this week.
Half Acre, counted
Feed the soil and the soil feeds everyone.
Box people
My five-year-old ate a raw carrot straight from the box with the dirt wiped on his trousers. He has refused carrots for three years. I nearly framed it.
The weekly note radicalised my cooking. I now have opinions about chard. I did not plan to have opinions about chard.
Cancelled my supermarket delivery slot after a month. The box decides dinner now and dinner got better.
The field note
The gate
Gate's open Saturday mornings — walk the beds, meet the worms' work, and take the surplus shelf seriously. Box sign-ups by email or phone.