‘…. I know a little old lady who goes without sugar in her tea and saves it up until the season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, when she walks out in the country lanes with a parasol decorously held aloft to protect her grey hairs from the still too ardent sun; and she carries an elegant basket which she fills with the fruits of the earth, elderberries, sloes, rose-hips, dandelion-heads and so on. She takes them home and for the next few weeks, in her spotless kitchen, she makes sloe gin and various sorts of wine, bestowing upon each process as much care as the Lord High Wine-maker of Chateau Mouton Rothschild in a vintage year.’
John Moore: The Season of the Year: Published 1954
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