I nearly walked past The Wee Tiny Winery without understanding what Cat had made. The scale catches you off guard. Around an old tree in the Toxic Valley, she’s fitted tiny doors, windows and curved metal roofs into a miniature arrangement that rewards a closer look.

Lanterns bring out the rough bark and little bits of pipework, with plants and machinery tucked into the spaces around it. Every part has to be placed carefully when there’s so little room to work. Whatever my thoughts about the trade in the name, I can give fair credit to the patience and workmanship.

Cat isn’t one to stand around explaining herself, and I wasn’t about to ask her to start. Her usual determination shows up here in a quieter form. She has taken an unlikely tree and a collection of ordinary pieces, then made something I had to stop and study, which is a fair accomplishment in my book.