This morning, along the wilder edges of the Abbey Meadow, blackberries were ripening. On one side of a bramble bush, beside the cycle path, people were picking and tasting as they went — “That one’s lovely!” “Ooh, that’s sour!” “We’ll need a stepladder to get those.”

Across the other side of the brambles, near the long grass, there were plenty of juicy blackberries. Wasps flew past the firmer ones, drawn to fruit that had gone soft and squishy.

Ladybirds were also out in numbers on the berries (I though they ate aphids). Bluebottles and other flies landed on blackberries, and blackbirds flew to pick off the ripe fruit.

Where wild clematis threaded through the brambles, a Gatekeeper butterfly rested, its wings frayed at the edges.

And in the wildflower circle, bumblebees were busy on the scabious, bumbling from flower to flower in search of nectar.

Children played in the playground nearby.