Sarah,
I am imagining Gordon bringing the harvest home.
I have a small; old black and white photograph of my Grandmother?s Uncle Morris? my Great, Great Uncle. In the photograph he is standing, all five foot one of him, with one foot raised and resting on an upturned log. He has a leather tankard in one hand, stretched out before him, in the other he has a large earthenware flagon, his index finger is looped through the earthenware ring on the neck of the flagon and he is obviously about to pour. The scene is set in the yard in front of ?Pen Y Mynydd? (The Mountain Top) our former ancient and diminutive Pembrokeshire hillside farm? I recognize the setting? I know it and love it still… with an undiminished passion.
In the photograph Morris is surrounded by a dozen or so people? the only face I recognize belongs to Morris? wife, my Great, Great Aunt Minnie? all of their faces are alight with joy as they stand in various poses of merriment… witnessing the act of celebration. There is one unknown woman in particular who has her hands clasped together as if in prayer, her eyes are open wide and even in a small, black and white photograph her zeal and joy is infectious.
On the back of the photograph there is a brief inscription, surprisingly written in English, in faded pencil by a bold but fine hand.
?All is safely gathered in?.
God bless you both xxx.
Dai.
Amelie 12 years, 9 months ago.
