Nikki and I recently went out to the hop yard and I was reminded of that famous Shakespearean stanza,
"Hark, sprouts of love,
Yon distant yard groweth
Whence thou was bare.
Oh, ye bitter brew made
with hops so beauteous."
Okay, I made that up; and I didn't have any thoughts of Shakespeare when we saw this glorious sight:
Mmmmm, future aroma and/or bittering hops!