While I was in England, my friend Erika took me on a day trip by car through the Black Mountains to the town of Hay-on Wye in northeastern Wales. In a later post, I will show my pictures of the town.
The mountains are hills, as my friend Kevin, who lives near the Cascades in the US, reminded me. Whatever - the scenes are beautiful, as you see from the pictures.
The beauty of Wales is one of Britain's well-kept secrets, at least it was to me. I had no idea of the loveliness of the countryside until our visit.
The photo shows plainly a few of the many crevices in the rocky hills.
The animal in the photo is a wild horse. Erika hoped we would see a herd of horses, but one is better than none. Though if I remember correctly, there may have been another horse in view but too far away to capture in the same picture.
Marci's Mom's family originates in southwest Wales, so we've done one or two trips into that country. As you say, it's gorgeous. Also, I'm a real sucker for Welsh accents.
ReplyDeleteTim, I was astonished by the loveliness. I am so pleased that Erika took me on the drive. Does Marci have a touch of a Welsh accent? :-)
DeleteNo, she and her Mom were both born and bred in Ontario. It was her Mom's parents that came from Wales.
DeleteI thought perhaps the accent might have been handed down, ;-)
DeleteSo beautiful. I feel like I can walk right into these pictures and be in the same space. Thanks! for sharing.
ReplyDeleteMy maternal grandparents were from Wales. One of my mother's brothers was named "Medford" and her only sister was named "Blodwen". Loved those names!
What lovely names, Bonnie.
DeleteThe pictures came out really well, but they still don't do justice to the beauty. I was blown away.
Hills of whales,
ReplyDeletevalleys of krill,
flow of life not quite still.
Yup, word associations odd, but that should be no surprise to you! And a reminder of a little story that may or may not be true: on my father's side, Russians and a Welshman, allegedly a horse thief fleeing justice, hiding on a boatload of Irish escaping the great potato famine, allowing the intake folk at Ellis Island to miss-spell his name in order to avoid arrest or suspicion ... hence people thinking my family name is Irish ... maybe just family legend, but we've found no one remotely Irish on that side of the family tree, just a lot a crazy Russians and non-conformist Episcopalians ... so we smile at the photos.
Odd but nice word associations. Thanks for the story, which could well be true.
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