Letter from the border

Judith Kaufmann

We cross into Cymru just before Yr Ystog, and my head says: nearly home. You think this is it. Move into Wales at Church Stoke. Bron adra. Nearly home. But as soon as you’ve thought it, you’re out again. It says “Welcome to Shropshire,” and we have to cross the modern borderline, the Severn and Offa’s Dyke once more before we are eventually in Cymru.

Trans-border road

Borders are places where lands at the same time separate and meet. This trans-border road between England and Wales is one of many, and they all have different memories but share the character of places where cultures are joined and transformed. The B4356 above the Lugg between Presteigne and Llangunllo, for example, remembers the battle of Pilleth where Owain Glyndŵr and his men fought Marcher baron Edmund Mortimer in 1402 who then joined the Welsh.

And in Casgwent, community orchardists once told me, they celebrate the start of the year with Mari Lwyd singers from the western bank of the Wye meeting wassail singers from the English bank on the footbridge.

Tribal separation

Here around yr Ystog/Church Stoke and Montgomery/Trefaldwyn, the many hillforts, castles, and mottes (without baileys) that remain in the landscape, have all been used as places highlighting the separation of tribes and clans, Celts and Germanic peoples, Welsh and Norman/English territories. They tell stories about lords and kings who believed their lands needed to be defined, defended, reinforced, and used these sites to draw a line and keep people on either side. It would be too dangerous to let people mix. The earth banks of Offa’s Dyke are the most lasting reminder of this boundary mindset.

New beginnings

But boundaries are not merely a show of power or fear, or locations of me against you. They invite observation, inspiration and co-operation. They are places of excitement, invention and progress. The names of villages and features in the land tell the story of mixing: Cwmdale. Beguildy. Cefn Gunthly. Cwm Dingle. Landscapes, people and ideas cross over, are stitched together, unravel and form anew, just as the silts and sands on coasts shape ever new patterns. Edges are full of possibilities and yearnings, as well as farewells and loss. Where cultures are in close contact, new beginnings are negotiated, marriages formed, hopes in a better future raised. In farms and villages such as Panpunton, Lloyney, Nether Skyborry and Black Barn. In border communities such as Knighton/Tref-Y-Clawdd, Lloyney and Llanfair Waterdine,

I feel at home in edge-country. By the sea, and near borders.

Another shore

Crossing borders, by road like at yr Ystog, by boat over a sea that we trust has another shore, or by walking over a mountain such as Hatterill Edge on the Black Mountain between Llanthony Priory near y Fenni and Longtown Castle in Herefordshire, promises adventure and stirs curiosity. Being allowed to travel and explore opens your arms to like-minded strangers.

Combining ideas

We are crossing this made-up line as adopted Cymry, European at heart. Comfortable with combining ideas, histories and languages, comfortable too with belonging to more than one culture. We’re lucky to call Cymru our home. West of Yr Ystog is the country where community is big. Where renewable energy schemes, shared gardens, co-owned pubs and cafes keep villages alive. Where multilingual projects link us with other small peoples, and where conservatives and progressives happily combine in one nationalist party. Where thinking about the future of the planet is enshrined in law.

Nearly home

Soon, altitude will lift us higher into the sky, and the territory demand that a web of crossing hillside lanes is replaced by a single road through a steep valley. Yes, nearly home. In the country west of Church Stoke that opens its arms to all who respect it. Croeso i Gymru.