Traditionally, on this day years ago children would comb the woods and hedgerows looking for hazel nuts. At the moment the nuts are plump but not yet fully ripe and I'm wondering if the wise children gathered them before squirrels stripped the trees bare. The poet William Worsdworth lived in this area 200 years ago and he writes about the fun of nutting.
Nutting, from 'The Prelude' by William Wordsworth
– It seems a day
(I speak of one from many singled out)
One of those heavenly days that cannot die;
When, in the eagerness of boyish hope,
I left our cottage-threshold, sallying forth
With a huge wallet o'er my shoulder slung,
A nutting-crook in hand; and turned my steps
Tow'rd some far-distant wood
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