The first couple of weeks on Treflach farm were physically exhausting but beautifully sunny days. I worked outside in the garden and around the land. My favourite place to be was with the vegetables, clearing out the overgrown wilderness and preparing the soil to be turned into beds ready to house new plants. It was hard labour and hot work that left me craving lunchtime coca colas or beers, not to be found.
Every evening my second last task of the day was to water the polytunnel. Giving an hour to feeding rapidly growing plants was satisfying and had a sense of importance. They were shooting upwards and outwards and an evening after a particularly hot day, or the odd sneaky day where I couldn't be arsed, the difference could really been seen. Without water the leaves turned limp and the plants looked sad.
One evening I spotted some wild raspberries growing in the field behind the tunnel. I hacked through a dense growth of nettles to reach them with my greedy fingers. Seriously disappointed with the meagre offerings I filled only half a tiny flowerpot, gone in a mouthful!
Really weekend I walked into town on the Saturday morning to treat myself to a swim and a normal day of being amongst people, shops and cafes. Oswestry is about 2 miles away, the pool another mile the other side. Post-swim I was starving and well ready for that coffee. Sitting outside on a blue chair at a wooden table I ate my packed lunch and drew some pictures, listening to my neighbours chat about their terms at university and plans for the summer.
Not a very big town there are more charity shops, bargain stores and pubs over anything else. It is pretty in its own way though, with red white and blue bunting over the streets and a mixture of red brick and ancient medieval buildings amidships newer retail places.
Nuria is one local lady. A friend of Betty's I first met her in Trefonen when Betty brought me to experience a Church of England service. She and Betty have been friends for a very, very long time. When she met me and learned I studied Textile design she invited me to visit her house and look at her collection of Chinese textiles. Geremy, her husband, had worked in Hong Kong and they lived there for 20 years, taking many trips to China during that time. She brought down a museum-worthy bundle of exquisite pieces of traditional dress. The intricately detailed stitching and joyful patterns were really inspiring and I was surprised to learn these were everyday garments worn by ordinary people doing ordinary things on ordinary days. Their old Welsh cottage was the quaintest, most idyllic location imaginable. Perfectly curated inside and out, I was greeted with a tour of the garden then had trouble suppressing my awe at the tastefully decorated interior. Colour themes and harmonies of texture ran through every room from the threshold to the back door. Sitting together the 4 of us, we ate homemade fruit cake and drank green tea from a pot.
