Before long, the hedgerows were a prominent feature of the Midlands landscape. They also served to keep cattle wandering. The were planted out of hawthorn [...] because it grew fast and was virtually impenetrable.
Daniel Pool. What Jane Austen Ate and Charles Dickens Knew. (1993) p. 160
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A fresh breeze was blowing; the rye and colza were sprouting, little dewdrops trembled at the roadsides and on the hawthorn hedges.
Gustave Flaubert. Madame Bovary.
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She leaned on a hawthorn stick, enveloped in garments she must have worn twenty years before, now much too voluminous for the shrunken frame inside them.