Anxious for a full day with Blodwyn, I practically ran over the uneven, weathered small boulders, jumped over clumps of ferns nestled in rock crevices, and slowed only to navigate the gushing bach dotted with verdant, moss covered slippery stones. Spurted upwards over loose scree and slagheaps sprouting new plants. I paused briefly, taking a gulp of fresh air as I ruffled the stained springy wool on a fat mountain sheep, before steering to the right past the village allotments and on to the steep, dusty path that led to Blodwyn’s farmhouse.
My heart was pounding, and beads of perspiration chilled my body despite the hot sun beating down. It had been so long. How would I find her?
Memories of our long engrossing chats over the years flooded my mind – about nature, the farm, the pitiful state of the valley. Blodwyn had lost her husband years ago in a pit disaster and life had been hard since then – tending sheep and three cows single-handed wasn’t easy. If it hadn’t been for her faithful sheepdog Maddox, I doubt she could have managed it all at the ripe old age of ninety. We used to talk for hours putting the world to rights. She had no other family.
I always said I would bring re-generation to these mountains one day. And she would chuckle and raise her eyebrows in doubt.
Well, now I am back, brimming with new ideas to ease her life.
Botany was in my blood and Grandad’s genes had endowed him with vigorous green fingers to put to use in his beloved allotment. I gravitate towards trees. The ancient Celts had left their mark all over Wales – in magical stone carvings displaying animals and plants in perfect harmonious balance. Trees were considered sacred, harbouring spirits from nature – symbolising longevity and wisdom. Studying rowan trees – the Tree of Life according to sacred history – had stirred my mind to greater things.
Blodwyn would understand all of this.
Puffing now – nearly there. Seems a little quiet . . . Blodwyn must be tending the animals. We used to shout greetings as soon as she spied me on the path from her usual place in the veggie patch. Mind you, it has been 2 years!
I cupped my hands and called, ‘Blodwyn, Blodwyn, It’s me, I’m back!’
There was just a rustle as the wind moved through the grass. Frowning now, I circled the garden, gazed over the fields . . . called again, cupped my ear . . . nothing, just an eery silence.
That leaves the house. I reckoned she was having her habitual cup of tea, perhaps I’m just in time. This perked me up, a smile spread over my face – of course! Just imagine her surprise, I quickened my step in anticipation of all the things we would talk about in her quaint farmhouse kitchen with the worn shiny flagstones.
I knocked before pushing open the old wooden screechy door. It seemed a little chilly inside and unlike the past: dusty and untidy. This was not like Blodwyn . . .
I stared at the dying embers in the grate, then turned as I heard a weak moan.
‘Blodwyn, what an earth has happened?’ She sat crumbled in her rickety rocking chair, seeming barely alive. Bedraggled and unkempt – wrapped in dirty clothes. Clutching an old rug to her chest, she smiled weakly –
‘Oh, oh . . . my dear . . . I am so glad to see you’, she whispered, a tear dropping over her cheek, a flicker of recognition in her faded eyes. Maddox slowly wagged his tail and sidled over whimpering.
‘Blodwyn, how long have you been like this?’ I asked, gently, holding her wrinkled parched hand and stroking her brow. Her usual ruddy face looked pale and drawn.
‘Days’, she croaked, ‘old Maddox here tried to help but it’s all too much now. Her eyes overflowed with tears and her head slid back on the top of the chair.
‘Blodwyn, I’m getting the Doctor, you need help right now’.
‘No, my dear, no medicines, no hospital . . . nature helps’ – she said, mumbling repeatedly ‘feel it in my bones, feel it in my bones.’
I hurriedly made tea – strong and sweet and held the cup as she weakly slurped the hot liquid. Maddox whimpered at my feet. I gave him a bowl of fresh water and looked around for some dog biscuits.
‘Over there in the cupboard’, pointed Blodwyn, vaguely lifting her arm.
‘Tell me your news’, she whispered, after a little colour returned to her cheeks, ‘I like to hear your voice, just like old times – what have you been learning in that fancy university?’
‘Botany, Blodwyn, you know I always loved the subject’.
‘Ah,’ she sighed, her voice sounding stronger. ‘We both love trees and plants. She fixed her eyes on mine. ‘Well, have you come back with any grand ideas – remember our talk . . .’
‘I have Blodwyn but it’s not the time to talk, later perhaps . . .’
‘Nonsense, I can still listen and anyway I missed our talks so much – two years seemed an eternity – I truly didn’t expect to see you again. You bring me great comfort my dear, just to see you gives me strength’. Her voice faded again . . .
‘Well, just a small chat Blodwyn and tell me when it is too much’, she nodded and pulled her rug closer.
‘My dream is this – I want to help you plant rowan trees on your land,
‘Rowan trees, what ever would I do with rowan trees? Blodwyn exclaimed.
‘Just listen Blodwyn, there’s more to rowan trees than you would ever guess. Did you know ancient civilisations planted rowan trees specifically to offer protection from evil? I learnt so much at University. Do you also know about the healing powers of this amazing magical tree? This is perfect for your land – to re-generate and at the same time grow produce to sell – much less work than sheep and cows!’.
‘What produce? rowan trees are pretty but there’s nothing to sell,’ – Blodwyn’s voice trailed away . . .
‘Of course, there is, Blodwyn, think of the olden days, what did people produce from rowan trees?’
Frown lines appeared on her face. I waited, willing an answer.
‘Diodgriafel!’ she called out in a trembling voice, her eyes lighting up as a smile spread over her face. ‘You are a clever girl’.
‘Exactly! – rowan berry wine – the old Welsh recipe with crab apples that peasant folk used to make. I’ve also studied medicinal plants Blodwyn and rowan berries have amazing healthy properties: anti-inflammatory, anti-bacterial, immune enhancing, infection fighting and energy boosting effects. What do you think of that? They are wonder trees.’
Blodwyn’s eyes widened the more I spoke. Not a word passed her lips – but the slight frown remained, and her eyes became vacant. She was trying hard to process my words.
‘Can you imagine the village shops stocking Rowan Farm lotions and potions and dried rowan berry charm necklaces? We could even sell rowan berries to Luigi’s ice-cream parlour! and Blodwyn . . . what about a farm café to sell your Diodgriafel, jams, chutneys, rowan pies and crumbles? We can build a thriving business.’
‘Ah, it sounds so lovely,’ she sighed, ‘but it’s all beyond me now my dear, perhaps together as a team – I could contribute a little, though you will have a big job on your hands’. I could hardly hear her voice; she sunk in her rocking chair and closed her eyes – away in another world with new thoughts.
If only time stood still!
‘I’ve come home to start a big project Blodwyn, There’s enough energy for us both, now I’m off to look at your animals – just rest and gather your strength. I am here to help’, I said, tucking the rug around her.
‘Come on Maddox, there’s work to do’.
It didn’t take long to circle the farmhouse and check the animals, Maddox wagging his tail and showing me the way. And it didn’t take long before I felt the need to check up on Blodwyn.
She lay crumpled in the same position.
‘Blodwyn, another cup of tea? . . . Blodwyn?’ . . . I touched her brow, and she slumped further in the chair and the rug slipped on the floor.
‘My God Blodwyn!!!’ . . . No, no, no . . .’ Had I talked too much?
‘Maddox, stay, stay’. I pressed his body down to the flagstones. Draping the rug over her inert body, I ran like fury down the mountainside, jumping over stones, dodging sheep and boulders.
Why now? Why now?
I raced into the Doctors surgery on the upper hillside, shouting hysterically and help was soon on its way.
A medical team reached the farmhouse with a stretcher and Blodwyn was carefully transported down the pathway to a waiting ambulance and onward to the main hospital up the valley.
I held her hand the whole nerve-wracking way with Maddox close on my heels.
Arriving home exhausted and shocked at the day’s outcome, Mam took me in her arms and cradled me. ‘She meant the world to you, didn’t she?’ I nodded, with tears streaming down my cheeks as I patted Maddox.
It was a week later when I heard news. A week in which I couldn’t concentrate on anything.
Blodwyn had had a stroke. She was very weak and frail, could talk a little and seemed able to understand. It was a miracle. I was allowed to visit her and talk just briefly – give her comfort and strength to live. But when I stopped talking, she quietly pressed me to continue by squeezing my hand and nodding – so I told her all of my plans as she lay motionless with her eyes fixed on mine. As I finished, she smiled weakly, her fingers tenderly stroking mine.
Day after day, I visited her, filling her in with all my plans in full detail, perhaps I could rent the farmhouse I suggested, Mam had a small nest egg put away for my use. One day, as sunbeams streamed through the hospital window, I felt a distinct, strong squeeze of her hand as she nodded and whispered an approval. She knows, she agrees . . .
I went home with a light heart for a restful break – the first in days and sent healing ‘Tree of Life’ thoughts to her hospital bed.
A week later there was a knock at the door. The village solicitor stood there, smartly dressed, glum and austere.
‘May I come in?’, he asked and stepped into Mam’s warm kitchen. He sniffed deeply.
‘What a lovely smell of spices wafting around.’, he said with an appreciative air. Mam was baking as always.
Papers rustled, then he looked up and handed me Blodwyn’s will.
‘Her will?’ I exclaimed in shock.
‘Yes, I have the sad duty of informing you that she passed away a few days ago. There was a letter in her belongings referring to you – hence my visit, you are the sole recipient of all that she possessed. The farmhouse is yours.’
Stunned, I sat there in silence clutching the will. No more long cosy chats, no more discussing wild dreams and having an interested ear in front of me. She had planned this all along!
I sobbed long and hard.
I would miss Blodwyn dreadfully, but she died in the knowledge that her farmhouse would be used to re-green the valley, to re-generate the mountains, to give alternative work to some of the pit workers and to contribute to new beginnings in the village stores.
Rowan Farm would be a place of enchantment for children and adults. Petting animals, play areas and an eco-nature information centre showing the public how to make Diodgriafel. Nature willow pathways planted through fields of rowan and crab apple trees. A Celtic healing herb shop selling dried rowan berry charm necklaces and a rustic café called ‘Blodwyn’s Retreat’.
Blodwyn will know all of this, because I told her so.
