The Village within a Village

 

I live in the South Western Part of Trelawnyd, on a lane which is called Cwm Road . Cwm is the Welsh word for a valley, but also is the name of a couple of villages located near to us here. So the lane not only moves down the valley but to a place called Cwm . 

It’s all bloody confusing.

My cottage is one of six dwellings , which lie next to the Church, and it is ( with next door) the oldest home in the row.

I always think that this part of Trelawnyd as a village within a village.

The lane drops down the valley bottom to where village Leaders Ian and Helen live in the old mill house, then rises up to the farmhouses at Pen y Cefn Isa, and Y Ffyddion 

At night, the lights in the windows of each house are comforting and show me that Lywena and Arfon are home.

This morning the view across the valley is glorious, and this is what I can see if I stand in front of my cottage looking south west.

The livery stables own the fields beyond the Church field, and the ponies that frequent them noisily shoot stem from their noses this morning as the frost lingered. The crows in their murder by the village well are loud and raucous, and lines of gulls call too as they shift sidewards and move down towards the coast. 

It feels as though there’s a lot going on in such a still place. 

Bun follows our walk, and stands guard from the graveyard wall, as Monika and her French bulldog steam by

The autumn colours in the trees and hedgerows are exaggerated by the sun , and everything feels golden and warmed, even though it’s chilly 

I take a deep breath in by the field gate, as Mary raises her head to the sun 

I am home