It’s a weird thing, this nature lark. This murky, mucky, wet, windy climate we have here on the moor shouldn’t support grape vines, should it? It’s not warm enough or dry enough in summer. It’s not cold enough in winter. In fact, it shouldn’t work at all.

But I heard a rumour on the grapevine. It said that sometimes things that look like a disaster (and both of these two grapevines looked exactly that), given time, some peace and quiet, a little luck and a following wind, they’ll quietly and surely put down roots, stretch out, unfurl and flourish.

The vines that run along the south side of my veggie garden are glorious. They are laden with embryonic fruit and I know from last year that semi-drying them in the oven then combining them into a sweet, slow rise bread dough they make for delicious, tart, colourful breakfast buns. I can see my new freezer filling up nicely in a few weeks’ time.

There is a message in there somewhere.