Listening to the land; or, what we did on our holiday
It was Robin’s birthday. He doesn’t need any more ‘things’. I’d been watching a film, on instgram, of a friend’s exhibition at the Table Gallery in Hay. We were at college together, years ago, Simon and I, and I have always loved his painting, drawing. Among the paintings there were some of a farm. Cefnmachllys. Amazing. I followed them in Instagram, and saw that there were shepherd’s huts and apotropaic marks in the barn. And so began a small adventure of tourism via art.
Three nights in a shepherd’s hut gives you two full days away, and so we set off and I left work behind, kind of. We has written instructions of how to get there and followed them in the old fashioned, let’s have an argument about which way to go, and which turning is which, but all the while smiling at the freedom and willingness to get lost.
Arriving at the farm it was more than I could have ever hoped for. Here, on this fold of land, there was an absence of the sound of humans, so rare to find. The air was still, the soundtrack was birdsong.
We had picked up supper along the way, in Narberth, so the first evening we read, listened to the evening chorus of birds, settled early to sleep and I dreamed of a flypast of wild, white swans.
The hut is small, but there’s a kitchen and small toilet and bathroom a few steps away. I’d taken my typewriter, notebook, The Book of Trespass to read in advance of an event that I am chairing 3rd May in Blackwells in Oxford, and the astonishing book A Little Life. Also, my teapot…..all the essentials.
And we were cosy, with the small stove. And the listening.
Two days spent watching the earth turn, listening to birds from sun up to sun down, hearing the changing textures of birdsong, from the wildest cacophony of dawn to the small solos of mistlethrush and blackbird and the high, mournful cry of the buzzard. One day I want to make a book that is a diary of listening and a geography of places. The bird-feeders brought the birds so close, as I sat at the table being over elaborate and showy with the visitor’s book.
Above was the first day, below is the second, where I decided to just sketch the birds who came to the feeder. So hard as they move so swiftly. And there were so many.
The farm itself is now in the custody of Sam and Helena, who live with the birds in the way we used to. The house is alive with house sparrows in the wall, and a redstart family! Redstarts, nesting in the walls! And swallows in the bards and a wren who guards the farm entrance, and a cuckoo in the valley and owls and all three woodpeckers ( green, heard but not seen, lesser spotted further up the valley). Barn owl and hare, siskin, so beautiful, just the perfect small creatures. So much song and so good to take the time to simply sit and listen to its changing quality, to try to pick out the individual voices.
Flowers too. One short walk down to the stream and there was wood sorrel and anemone and wild strawberry and archangel ( thanks Ann, for the id).
I left a stone in the small field maple on the ridge.
Two days……. it’s never enough. But it was good to meet Helena and Sam and the life they live, surrounded by. Who cares for whom, I’m unsure, but it felt like this was a small piece of paradise and the place cares for them, as much as they for house and land. So good to see such a place as a real home, as so many old properties are caught up in property development. Sam showed us the hay barn, with its ceiling of hazel and swallow nests which in other hands would be a bijou air b&b….. and the chimney where the bats roost, and the apotropaic signs of protection. ( His thoughts were that they were cut into the plaster using sheep shears.)
Here is a link to the hut, incase you fancy a slice of peace.
This is Sam’s business, historic building consultancy. He knows it from the inside out and his mision is to encourage people to live with and understand their homes.
This is the hut on Air B&B and they seem to have availability for Hay Festival time, which is not far away!
We didn’t want to leave when we were there. We just wanted to listen to the land, read, walk a bit and enjoy the not having to do anything or be anywhere. There’s a lot to be said for being silent and still. And a huge thank you to Sam and Helena for the warmest and most open of welcomes to your beautiful home.
I know this was supposed to be Robin’s birthday present, but there’s something about the ‘gift economy’ that really pays back. I’d not told him where we were going, only that he would have the ‘pleasure’ of my company for two days. ( I’ve been working hard, and when I work to this intensity I am withdrawn and self absorbed,, and often not good company). This was such a place of peace, such a resting space, such a renewal. ( I think he enjoyed it too. I guess I should ask him.)
Back home I made Robin his own version of the visitor’s book, an added present.
What a lovely read. Idyllic is the word that springs to mind…..
It is. Sometimes it is good to just be still.
How lovely Jackie, what a perfect place for you to be. The spotted woodpecker is a favourite bird of mine, that flash of red is a joy. I love the photo of you and Robin x
Sounds like bliss
“an absence of the sound of humans” is something my ears crave so often. To not have to wake up at dawn or wait until the midnight hour to experience it sounds like you found a little piece of heaven.
How wonderful. WE have just come back from Wales, and I felt very similar too. Tiny birds in the hedge outside our cottage windows. We have birds here at home, but they’re rarely audible above the traffic
I heard a goose…
Thank you Mr Stenham. I believe there was also an owl.
Gosh, this is lovely and I’m so glad you shared it xxx
Actually Ms. M,. I’ll come clean, I blew your whistle…
It’s a bird caller, not a whistle, Mr Stenham.