memoryweaver
"So shall the hop have homage from the vine".
September — the first golden days of Autumn where the early morning air turns crisp, fruits are ripening in the hedgerows and the fragrant hop flowers hang in giant cascades in the hop gardens of England. Hop picking used to be a traditional seasonal labour for poor families who would travel from London's East End to the hop gardens in Kent, often walking the 35 miles and sleeping rough. By the 1950s, Mechanisation and cheap imports had brought an end to the tradition. The hop vine is a rather vigorous plant — I left mine to grow, as I wanted it the hops for photographing, but it's currently attempting to eat the garden! The title is from a poem, 'The Hop Garden' by Christopher Smart, written in 1752.
"So shall the hop have homage from the vine".
September — the first golden days of Autumn where the early morning air turns crisp, fruits are ripening in the hedgerows and the fragrant hop flowers hang in giant cascades in the hop gardens of England. Hop picking used to be a traditional seasonal labour for poor families who would travel from London's East End to the hop gardens in Kent, often walking the 35 miles and sleeping rough. By the 1950s, Mechanisation and cheap imports had brought an end to the tradition. The hop vine is a rather vigorous plant — I left mine to grow, as I wanted it the hops for photographing, but it's currently attempting to eat the garden! The title is from a poem, 'The Hop Garden' by Christopher Smart, written in 1752.