Frost at last; winter is slowly creeping in. Out beyond
Oxwich Bay, threatening dark grey clouds cast patches of intense light onto the
surface of the sea. They last just a few seconds, move quickly over the dark
water, and are gone.
At this time of year Llandewi has a remote feel to it, the
old Norman church, surrounded by a dirty farm, looks forgotten, and I suspect there
are few visitors here during the winter months. The old drovers way to the west of
the farmyard is now partially paved, and leads eventually to Old Henllys, and
the eastern slopes of Rhossili Down. Just a few isolated trees grow from the
hedgerows. Open to the wind, most are bare, apart from ash, which have retained
their seeds, hanging in great bunches from the ends of branches. I muse about
ash dieback, and wonder if the prevailing westerly winds will save Gower from
this dreaded fungus. Only time will tell.
On the lonely road to Burry Green, I stop at a large barn,
where years ago I could guarantee a sizable flock of yellowhammers in autumn
and winter. There are none again today, and sadly this is the norm now, and like
most small birds on Gower, they have dramatically declined. Pesticides and
modern farming methods have seen to this.
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