The berries on the rowans have turned to their beautiful bright reddy-orange. And, as usual, those berries have turned my mind to delightful memories.
As a lad, I was enthralled by this part of the world – the part of the world in which I now live. We holidayed – Mom, Dad, Uncle Doug, Auntie Joan, Cousin Susan and I – for many years in a cottage called Penpombren down in Rhos-y-Gell, near Pontarfynach (Devil’s Bridge). We seemed to visit the area very often in the course of each year; even coming down – well, me and Uncle Doug – when Winter was closing in.
Apart from the open spaces, the beautiful scenery, the solitude and the local people, it was the rowans along the road through Rhos-y-Gell showing the brightness of their berries which became a lasting mental image.
That, then, must have been at this time of year. And they’re there again now. Mother Nature runs an orderly garden!
Those berries remind me of so much about those happy, footloose days of the 1950s. For me, life was uncomplicated then and I was surrounded by love both on holiday and at home.
We never had much money, but there was lashing of love around me.
I still love my parents – “love does not end at the grave” – and I’m grateful for them doing their best to point me, their very self-determined son, in what they felt was the right direction. Of course, their example set my course far more strongly than any actual words.
I seem to have come a long way from the streets of Wolverhampton where I was brought up. That’s mentally as well as materially. But one should never forget one’s childhood.
To use another truthful quote: “All you need is love”.