Sunday 5 October 2008

A walk in the sunshine

Looking across our field and rooftops to the other side of the valley. Our copse is just on the right side of the picture out of sight.


Amazingly, the day has cleared up and we had an afternoon of undiluted sunshine. Today was much warmer as the wind has swung around from the North to the South. Bliss.

My husband and I had a wander up the hill, intending to walk right to the top, but little Banshee cat followed us, and scuppered our plans!



We are fortunate to have 5 1/2 acres of land here, some of it wooded. I walked into our copse this afternoon - it always seems such a magical place, as two streams meet. In fact there are three streams - 2 main ones and the run-off stream from our spring. In Iron Age times, a place such as this (with water) would have been thought of as a place where the gods dwelt, a liminal area, especially as there are three small tributories of water. They saw their panthenon of gods in all sorts of natural places, in streams, in trees, in clearings, in rivers, in caves and even outcrops of stone.

Just over the stream is Cae'r Castell - Castle Field. In the Iron Age it was a defended enclosure. Sadly, the current owner has seen fit to use it as a quarry, but there was little of archaeological importance there - it was probably ploughed in WWII anyway. But my little bit of wood is right on the border and it has such a special atmosphere to it. I like to just sit and appreciate its solitude for a while, wishing that someone from the Iron Age world could step through time so I could see them.


You may just be able to see a bit of Cae'r Castell just in front of the trees - some of it's still lit by the sun, but the nearer part in shadow is our field.

The keys on the Ash Tree across the farmyard are ripening now.

This is a wee bitty copse on another corner of land we call the triangle, which is behind the old mill pond. Our eldest daughter always called this the Fairy Glen.

The trackway to Cae'r Odyn (Kiln Field) where I often go blackberrying.

A big old Field Maple on the border of our field.

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