The rain continued as we walked from the Abbey to the church, the sky heavy and grey. Even the shelter of the trees was not enough to protect the lens from the constant drops, but it began to ease as we sought the solitary yew in the churchyard, beside which the mediaeval poet, Dafydd ap Gwilym, is though to be buried, although there is a dispute as to whether Strata Florida or Talley Abbey holds the poet’s remains.
There are disputes too about the dates of his birth and death, though all agree that he lived in the mid-1300s, writing poems of nature, love and laughter that are still known and loved today. It seemed fitting that a bard should be buried beside a yew, one of the land’s sacred trees and as long-lived as verse. The hollow trunk seemed a portal to another world and, if Daffyd is not buried there… he should be.
The rain paused for a moment, allowing us a good look at the Valley of the Flowers and its hills. It is a truly beautiful spot. Above us we saw that the Pilgrim had company…and wings.
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