Grapes!

No glasshouse. No nurturing. In fact no notice of this vine being taken at all. We came across it on our long walk this afternoon. A garden escapee on a secluded footpath.

“Trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored” immediately sprung to my mind. We used to sing this at school without fully understanding its full significance.

Overhead this morning a B52 USAF Cold War bomber circled menacingly at10000 ft for over an hour.

We continue to live in rapidly changing times.