September 20th, this coming Thursday, according to tradition I must pick my hops. I was going to anyway this week, since they are papery and ready, but how nice to know that they are still doing what they have done for centuries; getting themselves ready for picking on September 20th. How punctual and dependable, hops!
"Hymn to Hops
Haste, haste then and strip, as it bends from the pole
The fruit that gives vigour and strength to the soul
Our hearts and our spirits to cheer
It warms and enlivens the true British beer.
—Charles Dibdin, Songs, 1798 "
I will not make beer with mine. I plan to make sleep pillows - little sachet packets full of garlicky dreams. (Hop flowers smell like garlic, but they *really do* induce sleepiness.)
