Saturday, 6th August, 2011.

The Important Trivia Of Life

     Each morning before eight o’clock, the dog walks me some three-hundred yards and back.   We go past the top of the Village Green along the Tregaron Road.

The Green is simply a strip of grass opposite the terrace in which we live.   The road itself ran where it now is, so the hedge-bank of the field on the far side of The Green marks to route that road used to take.   Now, the “new” road curves to pass between our terrace and The Green.

Until the early 20th Century, there were horse-fairs held on the patch.   They were transferred to that site from Ffair Rhos (“The Fair of the Bog”) as Pontrhydfendigaid grew larger.

I take the same stroll – on my own – most evenings round about five o’clock.   On both strolls I look across to the Cambrian Mountains to the East and to the gentler hills to the West.   It’s a great pleasure to me.

I notice, too, various things growing in the hedgerow – there’s a short strip of the original roadside hedge still there.   I see the sky in various moods.   I see the flight of birds and I stare back at the idly-curious sheep.   There are often horses in the field beyond The Green, sometimes staring as I pass, sometimes basking in the sun, sometimes galloping for sheer enjoyment of their lives.

I recorded the death of two young magpies on this blog – last October, I think it was – and I note all sorts of minutiae from car skid-marks on the tarmac to interesting litter (!).

I observe the passing of the year, of each year.   I notice the Spring greening of the trees and their Autumn dying.   I see the moods of Mother Earth, the waves and the scowls of drivers who pass by.   I translate again and again the names of houses, farms and fields and try to understand from those names what part they played in the development of the my home village and its surroundings.

The whole experience of observation, both along that stroll and in other places whether walking or driving, fills me with delight, with understanding.   It fills me again and again with the conviction that I live where I should live.

I wonder about the people who have walked and wandered in these parts over the years, the centuries.   There would have been those among them who, however hard a life they led, would have felt as I do about this special area.

And, each time I feel what I feel about where I live, a question comes to me:  “When I am gone, who will there be to watch, to enjoy and to remember this trivia all around?”

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This entry was posted in As Time goes by . . . in Ceredigion and Wales.. Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to Saturday, 6th August, 2011.

  1. Irene Cunningham says:

    Hi Keith, just got back from Scotland. Such a beautiful place. I like what I’ve just read. Think you’d like Scotland too.

    • Cornflake says:

      Thanks, luv. Sorry this has taken me so long to respond: the post I just wrote will explain a little. Have been to Scotland a few times – it’s like Wales . . . only on a bigger scale!

  2. Karin says:

    Keith, maybe no one else will have your keen power of observation and interest and love of where you are. But, that makes you and what you do ever so much more wonderful!

  3. Cornflake says:

    Thanks, Karin. Your sentiments make me blush. Forgive the slowness in replying: the latest post tells some of the story.

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