Powys in the Spring

While regularly travelling the same roads across the large but sparsely populated county of Powys, I am surprised by an unfamiliar turning, or rather, no longer surprised. The ancient byways have seemingly shape-shifted, as if rolled up at night and rebuilt slightly differently the next day. Perhaps it’s the work of the “Fair Folk”, the Tylwyth Teg. Adjacent to the A470, particularly when early sunlight pierces a morning mist, autumn colours still in the deep valleys and on high rounded hills are punctuated by the early shoots of spring blossom. This time of year seems to transcend the seasons. Deluding myself that I had become familiar with every corner of this relatively small nation, there is always something new, whether an absurdly ancient farmhouse, a humbling history or a sudden shaft of sunlight illuminating a previously veiled verdant slope. In many places I try to imagine the lives of the inhabitants and their families, then and now.

I discover hamlets on online maps, but then fail to find them on the ground, as if a parallel to Brigadoon, that tale of a Scottish village that only appears every hundred years. The 1954 musical fantasy starred (with Cyd Charisse) Gene Kelly, whose character was strangely similar to one of his last film roles as “Danny” in Xanadu (1980), a personal favourite of mine, in which a mural painting of the muses of Olympia occasionally came to life. I'm not a huge fan of musicals but there are exceptions.

The three best known “Welsh” poet Thomases are Edward (1878-1917, from a Cymreig family in London), Dylan (1914-1953) and R.S. (1913-2000). Edward wrote nostalgically and colloquially, and the bleakness in the work of the others is well known. I wouldn’t presume to embellish their stories, so refer you to the links below. R.S. Thomas published his first poetry while a rector in Montgomeryshire (now in Powys) between 1942 and 1954, typically taking a harsh view of rural life, both land and people. Much later he described Abercuawg, a longed-for idyllic place that ultimately cannot be found: a mythical metaphor for Hiraeth too. I think I come close to understanding what he meant. The crossroads between Hiraeth, people’s real lives and the picturesque becomes achingly wistful.

In 1974 Powys subsumed the counties of Sir Drefaldwyn (Montgomeryshire) and Sir Faesyfed (Radnorshire). Both feel displaced in time, even the local accents sound ancient and unmodernised. It doesn’t seem quite like the rest of Cymru, or indeed anywhere. Some in Radnorshire still self-identify as just “Radnorian” and no nation. Ad hoc signs beside the road state: “No farms, No food, No future” alternating with “Cofiwch Epynt”, “Save Air Ambulance” and “Stop the Pylons”. The area is popular with incomers, while some destroy the idyll they sought. Many miss the point by asking on social media about the location of the nearest Waitrose. The roadside fruit and vegetable stalls are sufficient destinations in themselves, together with small local shops and cafes. Others at least respectfully ask about learning Cymraeg, but tragically attracting too many dismissive answers suggesting it’s a waste of time, from those that haven’t bothered to discover a language still thriving albeit in some places just below the surface.

Psychogeography imparts a depth of experience that helps to “ground” me empathically in places I may even just pass through momentarily. In ongoing language lessons I am asked what my favourite place is in Cymru. I reply “wherever I happen to be today”, which is often somewhere in Powys.

The fair folk have much to answer for.

LINKS

Tylwyth Teg Are The Welsh Fairies From British Legend - Wales Culture

Brigadoon - Wikipedia

Xanadu (film) - Wikipedia

Epynt clearance - Wikipedia

A café in the Empty Quarter (cambriancrumbs.blogspot.com)

RADNORIAN: Are Radnorians really Gogs? (tredelyn.blogspot.com)

Three poets named Thomas . . . Nightingales from Wales - The Berkshire Edge

Presence and Absence | SpringerLink