It would be unfair to say that we switched off the wireless by common consent because of Bob Marley and the Wailers because it wasn’t them. It was however some operatic wailing. Turns out it was the Radio 4 Sunday Service that had sneaked on whilst I was dozing. All I can say is avoid, avoid, avoid.
In the kitchen we have the dulcet tones of Alan Shearer on Match of The Day. Far more relaxing. I’m not listening to the words themselves. That’s not what Sunday mornings are about. Relaxation is the order of the day. By order.
Relaxing breakfast over and now consuming tea at the kitchen table. Tas been thus for centuries gone although there will in the past have been a time when I had to get into my Sunday best in preparation for the penance and worship ahead.
It was a two mile walk from Talgoed farm to Capel Penybont in Pontyweli, just over the river from Llandysul. They were a devout lot, the Davieses in the late eighteenth century. People probably walked from a lot further away than two miles. Was nothing in those days. Maybe they took the horse and cart. Makesalorrasense to me.
Joe lit the fire.
The wind animates the branches hanging over the back garden of Tref and THG. One of the trees still has plenty of apples. I guess they would all have been picked in the old farming days. Stored safely away. Dried perhaps. I dunno.
A large proportion of the plants in my flower meadow now have seed heads. I am expecting great things for next year. Blossoms abound, aplenty. Still new plants coming through. The packet guaranteed blooms until the end of October (terms and conditions apply).
During my frenzy of tidying on Friday morning I came across a packet of flower seeds I got free from a Timberland shop. Forgotten they were there. I will add them to the meadow in the spring. No idea what flavour they are. Risky ou quoi?