The Annual Invasion 1 begin at the moment when the
bacchic pilgrimage of some forty thousand folk takes ' Kent by storm. Hop-picking is now in full swing. Everybody is cheerful because the prospects are so good. Apart from international affairs, this year has been an opulent one, except for the meagre cherry crop that followed the April snows. Years of drought have been made up by a showery summer, and the later fruits, along with the hop-bines, offer a spectacle of plenty. The apple orchards are loaded, and a shuttle service of lorries is carrying the harvest away to Covent Garden and the north of England.
" A tree big with apples Is a comfortable sight, Standing like a woman In the autumn light, Her burden so heavy Beneath her green leaves, That for shame she hides it Under drooping branches, Under folded sleeves."
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