Withdrawing into Winter

Frosty morning at Moelfre

Jeni and I left Wells at 7.30am on a damp, autumnal day towards the end of November heading for the Powys/Shropshire border near Oswestry. By the time we got to the M5 at Weston the rain was torrential but, with no obvious alternative available to us, we duly joined the northbound flow and were immediately engulfed in a fog of spray. Just north of Clevedon we met the back of a traffic queue which remained stationary for nearly an hour as we all dutifully dovetailed into the outside lane, as per the flashing signs, to avoid the accident that we could see about a mile ahead. I hate being stuck in traffic jams on the motorway – they make me feel vaguely unsafe somehow and my feelings of frustration mounted exponentially when the inside two lanes started to fill up with traffic (despite the overhead signs) which was all moving forwards whilst we remained parked! We passed two more accident sites in the relatively short run up to Gloucester at which point my nerve and my patience went and we turned off to make our way across country. We obviously made the right decision because, after a very few miles, the sun came out and it was like a totally different day!

The 'project' at Llangurig

The reason for our early start was to give ourselves time to make a small detour to Llangurig to view a property that I had been watching for over a year on Rightmove and which had been reduced by £20,000 the day before! Fate was not on our side as the estate agents could not spare anyone to take us round so we had to content ourselves with a look around the outside and peering through the ground floor windows. It was definitely 'a project' but, as Jeni pointed out, it could be a lonely project to take on and I somehow couldn't imagine it as my 'forever home' despite the lovely views, the beautiful area and the fact that one of my favourite towns, Llanidloes, is only about 5 miles away. I did think about making an appointment to view on the day that I returned south but, on further consideration, decided not to.

We eventually made it to our final destination at 3.30pm – I was completely exhausted and by the end of supper was unable to string two words together, so retired to bed, hoping that a good night's rest would revitalise me.

Dreamcatcher

The next day was such a total contrast, as Jeni and I attended Dawn's 'Retreat into Winter', held mainly in their wooden lodge in the centre of the garden with views out across the valley. In the company of a couple of other women we spent the day meditating, doing yoga and walking around the gardens collecting small bits and pieces with which to decorate the dreamcatchers that we made in the afternoon. It was such a wonderfully relaxing, self-indulgent day and more than made up for the day before.

Jeni had to catch an afternoon train home the following day but, in the morning we started on some repair work to the steps at the side of the lodge, that Dawn and I completed later in the week. My main reason for heading back to Moelfre was to help Tony re-fence the vegetable patch and I had sworn to do it whatever the weather! In fact after a couple of frosty days the weather became damp and foggy but with very little rain so we were able to get on with the job quite well. However, they had had a lot of rain recently and some of the level cross paths were very muddy whilst the steep slopes around the vegetable garden were like ski slopes! I was quite glad when we'd banged in all the fence posts as I could use them to hold on to as I slithered and slipped my way around.

New rabbit-proof fence

I hadn't realised just how short the working day was at this time of the year as by 3.30pm the light was dimming in the valley and things began to take on a mirage-like insubstantial quality, which is not what you want when you are trying to bang fencing staples in with a hammer! However, by the end of my ten day stay we had managed to fence all four sides with rabbit netting that extends out about 30cm at the bottom (to prevent digging) and now all Tony has to do is to make three gates to finally secure the area against those fluffy, long-eared pests that scoffed nearly all his vegetables this year. He obviously feels more confident about next year's growing season as we all spent one evening, in front of the log fire, poring over seed catalogues choosing the vegetables that they want to grow.

Most of the work in the garden at this time of year has been hard landscaping and, when I wasn't busy fencing with Tony, Dawn and I raised a sunken area in one of the paths to make it safer and more level to walk along and set six paving slabs in another area prone to mud at the top side of the lodge. We also created a living willow arch by the side of the second lodge (Dawn had already created a living willow arbour by the first lodge) so that, by springtime, the lodges should be ready for holiday lets. Exciting times! (wyldwoodsretreat.co.uk)

On my last evening I stood halfway up the garden tending a rather slow-burning bonfire and watched the sunlight fade from the valley. The valley runs almost east-west, the sun rising over the mountain, Gyrn Moelfre, at one end and setting over the high valley side at the other, so that the last thing to be illuminated by the setting sun is the beautiful mountain, that at this time of year glows a rusty red as the rays touch the browning bracken. As the last rays left the mountainside a hush descended on the valley like a soft blanket. The jackdaws have left their summer roost in the trees opposite taking with them their noisy squabbling, leaving the mewing buzzards as guardians of the air; the small birds were settling in the trees; a pheasant clacked nervously from its roost in the woods behind me and an early owl hooted from nearby, being answered by another further up the valley. The sheep grazed peacefully on the hillside, their new generation safely growing within, and soon there was no noise at all. I turned to go indoors, as the chill began to rise from the ground, and saw an almost full moon sail silently into the sky to one side of the mountain shedding a silvery light all up and down this lovely valley. Cilrhiw, the Heart of the Mountain, your peace creeps into my soul, your magic calms me and prepares me for the winter ahead – a time to dream, a time to plan, a time to just be. I will return to you in the springtime to witness the arrival of the new year, the new growth in the plants, the new life in this valley. Until then, stay safe and protected, surrounded by your ancient mountain ramparts and the spirits of all those who have trodden in this beautiful place.

Evening sun on Gyrn Moelfre