It was a beautiful day. All of 2012 will be remembered for the rain, but not that day. Not that moment.
It was September 16th, Owain Glyndŵr's Day (Dydd Owain Glyndŵr), and this was the place where he'd lived. I'd had a little trouble finding Sycharth, but now I was here and it was great.
Owain Glyndŵr was a Welsh hero, who lived during the turn of the 15th century. For a time there, he'd succeeded in freeing Wales from the yoke of the English. It existed as a separate nation, governed from a Welsh parliament. Glyndŵr was the country's prince and ruler. He was naturally loathed and hunted incessantly on the orders of the English monarch, as England wanted to resume their Occupation as soon as possible.
September 16th was the anniversary of the crowning of Owain Glyndŵr, as Prince of Wales and ruler of all Wales. Over the hills in Corwen, the celebrations were visibly in the streets. Bunting looped from lamp-posts and every business hailing the memory of Y Mab Darogan. They'd never forgotten Glyndŵr there.
But here in Sycharth, the place where Glyndŵr had actually lived, I was completely alone. There was little to see of his presence. Henry V had burned that down centuries ago. But you could make out the mound upon which the house had stood. You could explore the drained moat and still soggy mill pond.
I sat beneath the boughs of an enormous oak tree, which grew where once Glyndŵr's ramparts stood. The roots were big enough for me to nestle between, curling up comfortably as I read my book. A history of the man himself, of course. I wanted to read how it had been, not as it was now.
A distant trio of tractors disturbed me from my quiet reverie. I watched them for a while, then decided to wander some more. I found my feet and turned, just as the sun came out from behind a grey cloud. That's when I saw the view, which I photographed. That was the tree taken too high for the roots to be captured, and too close to discern that wide, wide trunk. A single low-lying branch served to frame the scenery, which the sun illuminated so beautifully.
In truth, it's just one of several taken at the time. I knew immediately that the photograph would be good. How could it not be with a background like that?! What I didn't have trust in was my ability to take the best shot immediately.
I did and you're seeing it. An autumnal scene in Powys, taken from the spot where Owain Glyndŵr stood and dreamed his dreams of a free Wales.