Harvest dance

The last of the early summer rhubarb has been harvested and is steeped in vodka and fresh ginger quietly turning it a delicate rosé colour. I am now jealously guarding the blackcurrant crop from greedy blackbirds who scold me whenever I turn up at the allotment to water. If the sun would just come out for a day or so they'll be ready for picking.

Mother's Ruin took a day off from the whirl of gin production to go Morris dancing with her mates Sharp Morris in Stratford upon Avon.