From John Keats’ poem, To Autumn, 1820:
Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For Summer has o’er-brimm’d their clammy cellsThese words so often used and so apt. what is this weather like, I so love Autumn in Ireland, kicking leaves, making jam, stocking the larder, and gardening in the shadows of the dwindling sun…..
Marie who takes groups out on the beautiful Burren, and I, have teamed up to bring you this walk, up her side of the mountain (as she say’s). So looking forward to it, and discovering the wise ways of our previous farmers, and seeing what wild food treasures abound.
Marie can be contacted at.http://www.mullaghmore-burren.com
