In medieval England the glorious midsummer feast of the Assumption was known as “Our Lady in Harvest”. At the top of Bredon Hill, on the knife-edge of Gloucestershire and Worcestershire, it’s not hard to understand why.
The air hums late into the evening as the farmers work hard to bring in the crops. Wild apple trees in the hedgerows are bent over with fruit. Each day lunch and supper ends with blackberries picked no more than 30 yards from the table: the size of quails’ eggs, messily juicy and lusciously sweet.
