Snowdonia |
Snowdonia National Park is located in northern Wales. It was the first park in Wales to be so designated. It's the third most visited National Park in England and Wales. Unlike national parks in most other countries, parks in Britain are made up of both public and private property. Over 26,000 people live within Snowdonia National Park, of whom, more than 60% can speak at least some Welsh - the nature of which is different from any language in Europe (except Breton, with which it shares a common heritage). Actor Anthony Hopkins, a native of Wales, is a supporter of the park and was once president of the National Trust's "Snowdonia Appeal," organized to raise needed funds. Snowdonia is a magical place, home to many legends. Its stunningly beautiful landscapes and miles of ancient stone walls and hedgerows combine to make Snowdonia a captivating and unique area. |
The Manor Farm by Edward Thomas The rock-like mud unfroze a little, and rills Ran and sparkled down each side of the road Under the catkins wagging in the hedge. But earth would have her sleep, in spite of the sun; Nor did I value that thin gliding beam More than a pretty February thing, Till I came down to the old manor farm, With church and yew trees opposite - in age Its equals and in size. The church and yews And farmhouse slept in a Sunday silentness. The air raised not a straw. The farm roof, With tiles duskily glowing, entertained The mid-day sun, and up and down the roof White pigeons nestled. There was no sound but one. Three cart horses were looking over a gate Through their forelocks, swishing their tails Lazily against a solitary fly. The winter's cheek flushed as if he had drained Spring, summer and autumn at a draught And smiled quietly. But 'twas not winter - Rather a season of bliss unchangeable, Wakened from manor farm where it had lain Safe under tile and latch for many ages. |
Photos on this page are courtesy of: City Pictures, Daily Mail UK, Pilotito, DaveOnFlickr, tarr3n at Wikitravel Shared, Snowdonia Guide |
Music: Serenity The Past Whispers - Home Friday's Journal Old New Orleans |
Please don't use the "Send Page" feature of your computer to send this page in an e-mail message or document format. If you'd like to share it, please just send the link. The link to this page is: http://www.thepastwhispers.com/Snowdonia.html |
A Plain Life by William Henry Davies No idle gold - since this fine sun, my friend, Is no mean miser, but doth freely spend. No precious stones - since these green mornings show, Without a charge, their pearls where'er I go. No leather books - since birds with their sweet tongues Will read aloud to me their happier songs. No painted scenes - since clouds can change their skies A hundred times a day to please my eyes. No surplus clothes - since every simple beast Can teach me to be happy with the least. |
The Village by R. S. Thomas Scarcely a street, too few houses To merit the title, just a way between The one tavern and the one shop That leads nowhere and stops at the top Of the short hill - eaten away By the erosion of the green tide Of grass creeping perpetually nearer This last outpost of time past. |
A Blackbird Singing by R. S. Thomas You have heard it often, alone at your desk In a green April, your mind drawn away From its work by the sweet disturbance Of a mild evening outside your room. A slow singer, loading each phrase With history's overtones, love, joy And grief learned in other orchards And passed on as they are now, But fresh always with new tears. |