We are in the Huddersfield examiner again:
HERE it comes, the time poet John Keats loved so much.
He called autumn the ‘season of mists and mellow fruitfulness’, and anybody who owns a garden, a greenhouse and/or an allotment knows just what he means.
Incredible Edible, a loose confederation of mucky-nailed, horny-handed sons – and daughters – of toil, is delighted. This is what it’s all about: trugs of beetroot, heavy-boughed apple and plum trees, jam and chutney by the ton, the soil banged off potatoes and garlic, Jerusalem artichoke and onion, bags of shelled peas.
