A flock of sheep came past our kitchen window yesterday, trotting one after the other in the direction all the other sheep were heading. The farmer waved at us from the comfort of the 4x4 as they passed (two shepherds were herding on foot). I believe they were from Castell, the farm closest to our east face. Joe and I met the female farmer (farmer’s wife, I suppose, but wouldn’t want to malign her status) while out for a walk; she had two border collies so Joe and I stopped for ‘collie chat’. She told me they have a couple of hundred sheep, but the flock marching past Rhos Hill amounted to about fifty; all plump, well-woolled ewes; in lamb, I think. They are now happily grazing in the field on the west side of our far bank – the grass is thicker and greener than the fields they’ve left. A nice early Christmas present for pregnant mums.
Slowly, our extension is growing. It's already got a roof and I've got the photo to prove it!
It is still, at times, nice enough to work in the garden, but our jobs at the moment are heavy and damp and I venture out less than Jim. My jobs are to dig two further veg patches for spring use, and to shift the massive pile of dug-up stones. This is a non-ergonomic chore, but unavoidable; we dug the stones up in the north-west of the field, carted them to the growing pile in the south-east and left them there...because at the time we didn’t know where some of them were going. Since then, we’ve successfully paved the polytunnel with small stones, although most of those came out of the soil when we dug up the polytunnel! Now, however, we’re creating a base coat of stones for the garage driveway and the path that will lead around the side of the garage, drawing a line at the top of the halfmoon of lawned terrace I’ve now completed. Not that it's seeded yet, I’ll wait till the spring for that. The stone pile is understandably muddy, so before laying my path, I have to wash all the stones – otherwise there would be little point in having laid the weedproof liner.
Jim’s job is to use his new shredder and diminish the massive heap of tiny twigs from the 9 felled trees. But he’s doubly lucky; not only is his job less heavy and definitely less wet, he’s burning the bits of twig that are too big to shred and too crap to keep as kindling; so not only is he not panting as he works, he’s got his own personal fire. Luckily, I’ve also got the excuse of staying in on drizzly days; I have a book to finish writing and students to advise.
In the run up to the festive season, the social life round here really heats up. Moving backwards; last night we went to Jackie and John’s for a delightful party where we got re-acquainted with Ann, who keeps donkeys who help her in her work with troubled children and the elderly and her husband Emyr, who farms beef. We met John's mum Pat who writes poems, and dad Dave who is a retired engineer, and their neighbours.
This week we’ve graced the Rhydlewis coffee morning, where we met people from the gardening club and chatted to a couple who live towards Brynhoffnant; David and his German wife Barbara. Tuesday was the gardening club dinner at the Ship in Llangrannog, that lovely little cove that Joe and I explored in the summer. No one was very enamoured of the food, though, especially Mia, who at 87 always looks turned-out as a Stella McCartney model (if not so elfin) and used to be a senior sister at Carmarthen hospital. ‘This turkey is like rubber,’ she complained, ‘and the carrots are raw.’ She was right; the chef had forgot that ‘bite’ doesn’t mean ‘loose a tooth’. ‘And this pudding is nothing special.’ But pubs see punters coming at Xmas; they can serve up rubbish with a cracker and everyone’s too drunk to care. Except Mia, who gave the waiter a look that would have withered a junior nurse.
Before that, Jill came over to lunch and we all went to Jenny’s. She lives just ½ mile from us, so it was nice to see her house, which, like ours, overlooks the valley; just a slightly different view. While there, we brought home the templates we’d need to be secretary of the gardening club. All we need to do now is start being secretary! And we had our final storytelling day, with a lovely party of food and delicious punch that Elsyllt brought, and five wonderful stories from her five students, including Jill’s sad tale of a leprechaun, Jim’s story of The Fox and the Sword of Light, and mine...the Night Visitors...which started out life as a libretto. And previous to that, a week or so back, we were at Mara Freeman's house in Maeslyn, just a mile from us, for a lovely workshop about angels, that Theolyn Cortens held there. Good time of year for angels.
Today we’re off to Bristol to see all the Dobunni crowd for the winter solstice celebration (bit early, it’s actually the morning of the 22nd), and to also deliver pressies to Gail and family and Maggie and Lew, who have kindly agreed to take us in for the night.
Then the big push comes. On the 22nd, we’re at the drop-inn party at Theolyn’ house in Newcastle Emlyn, Joe will hopefully be with us by xmas eve for a warm and happy few days, and Becky and Mark arrive on the 27th, just in time for Jill’s wonderful Midwinter Party. Weeee!
Last night, on the way back from the party, we passed through an ice storm. Hail, sleet and snow pour down, creating, in the headlights, a white screen that obliterated our vision. As we drove away from Llanybydder, the roads were white with new-driven snow. But by the time we reached home, there was no snow to be seen, and today, the sun is bright and low over the valley. Apparently, the Lampeter area is a microclimate and constantly has worse weather than we do, closer to Cardigan Bay and further from the Cambrians. Not trying to sound smug or anything, but yes, the sun is streaming, warm, through our windows....
