'Help yourself', the notice by the plum tree offered – and we did

All afternoon a procession of villagers arrived at the heavily laden branches to twist the juicy fruits free and wolf them down. Not just humans.

Butterflies fluttered into the garden to land on the windfalls and sip; commas, red admirals, speckled woods and peacocks could all be seen at the same time. The black garden ants formed their own orderly queue. Having spent spring and summer herding aphids in the heights of the plum tree, the ants now descended to ground level to happily sup the sugars. Even shy residents such as the garden field voles darted out from their long grass havens to scuttle across open ground and gorge briefly but fulsomely on the plums before racing back to safety; it was worth running the risk of the all-seeing eye of the neighbourhood kestrel. Like the ants, this wasn’t the first time the voles had found sustenance in the plum tree; in the spring they’d devoured the fresh, green leaves.

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