Y Filltir Sgwâr Revisited: The remembered earth

Tom Maloney

‘Once in his life a man ought to concentrate his mind upon the remembered earth, I believe. He ought to give himself up to a particular landscape in his experience, to look at it from as many angles as he can, to wonder about it, to dwell upon it.’
From ‘The Way to Rainy Mountain’ by N. Scott Momaday

How odd life is at times, that it is so easy to miss the ‘good stuff’. How to sort the wheat from the chaff and how to stay on top of things can be something of a conundrum.

Recommendations are one way out of the problem and a really good recommendation can send you along lovely, joyous pathways where there is no ending in sight.

A recommendation to read ‘PrairyErth’ by William Least Heat-Moon, led me in turn to N. Scott Momaday and I rather suspect it will lead me to other writers and in other directions as well.

I am not sure quite why it has taken me so long to come across N. Scott Momaday, it may be a generational thing or maybe just that life sometimes gets in between things, but just reading one sentence of his work had me completely hooked, it is so mindful, mindful at its very best really.

His writing, which was much informed by his Kiowa heritage touches your senses and holds you, as if by the hand and takes you on a journey into his world. Perhaps even more than that, he challenges us all to engage with the landscape where there is belonging and to really get to know it.

I get the sentiment here and the challenge, so looking back through the revealing windows of the seasons of this past year, here are some of the different places from Aberyschan to Blaenafon that I have come to know well, that frequently make me wonder and on which I thrive.

So often for me, they are the old and forgotten places, where there was industry born of fire, with humble dwellings nestled closely by, where there were tramroads and where there were people who toiled ‘the Remembered Earth’.

Y Gaeaf – Winter

January brought a dusting of snow to the higher ground at Talywain and Varteg, crisp under foot and firm enough to leave a trail of perfect boot prints.

Standing just above the old ruins of Graig Ddu Farm, feeling at one with the winter blue sky, was exhilarating and an uplifting way to begin the New Year.

According to the history board located nearby, in its day the farmhouse had its fair share of life and in more ways than one!

‘This ancient farmstead was built alongside an old Drovers Road and in its life was also used as a place of worship, a public house, a venue for bare knuckle fights and for the odd game of cards!’

Today, I suppose, we would call the farm a ‘hwb’ and while one wall remains standing you can still feel its past.

On the coldest of days, it is not hard to imagine family and friends, as silhouettes illuminated by the flickering flames of an open fire, cwtched closely together for the added warmth, chatting, singing, laughing and perhaps too … shedding a tear or two over the memories shared as well.

Y gwanwyn – Spring

Judgements are so often made quickly, almost in the blink of an eye, by first impressions. The British, Abersychan is one of those places that takes time to really get to know well.

It could so easily be dismissed as a landscape spoiled beyond recovery. The scars from a long industrial past when iron was master and coal was the king are still visible.

As you get to know this landscape well, you will see the differences with each new year and sometimes the ‘wow’ moments are really quite incredible.

Scars can fade over time. For me, this seems to be happening more and more at ‘The British’ and when you keep in your thoughts that this land was once dominated by layers of colliery spoil it is all the more remarkable.

Sometimes, I will stop for quite a while, transfixed by the idyllic landscape that fills my eyes with such beautiful treasures. These are lovely mindful moments when thoughts of the business of life are banished.

In the Spring nature bursts into life along the embankments that carried the mineral railway lines.

I look forward to the arrival of old favourites like Common bird’s-foot-trefoil. It dwells low to the ground and can easily be passed over, but it is simply stunning. I adore its waxy yellow and vivid red flowers, for which it is also known as ‘eggs and bacon’ or ‘ham and eggs’!

But it was the Oxeye daisies that gave me such joy this year … I don’t think I can remember seeing so many of their delicate, elongated stems mutually supporting such happy, jolly wild flowers all at once.

They seem to smile and most definitely make me smile too, so much like natural dream catchers that symbolise a wish for the future that this former industrial site becomes a nature reserve to be enjoyed by one and all.

I hope to see them in numbers again next year.

Yr haf – Summer

Perfect days come in all shapes and forms, but to wander amongst swathes of purple heather under a sky of cotton wool clouds set on a pastel-blue background worthy of the painter René Magritte has to be right up there for me.

Magritte’s Surrealist paintings are both strangely appealing and challenging, I like them a lot and I suppose the coal tips I know where the heather blooms so well in the months of July and August are just that as well for me.

Places like the Canada Tips, Blaenafon draw me in, especially in the late Summer. Whilst the colours and textures of this rich landscape tapestry have to be a huge part of the attraction, there is something more at work as well, I am in awe of the resilience and power of nature.

Heather is a plant to be admired in so many ways. Beneath its delicate purple blooms, it has tough, woody, almost wiry silver, branches and it grips the earth fast. This is a plant built for survival.

How would so much of the mountainside look, especially the extensive areas of coal spoil without this hardy, spreading shrub? I rather fear it would be drab and unwelcoming. Heather brings welcome colour and valuable habitat for insects and birds … it is the complete environmental package, or very close.

Yr Hydref – Autumn

Autumn brings all the drama of change as the green hills turn to hues of brown and by November it brings rain … heavy, insistent rain.

Paths that were baked hard in summer’s forge are like oozing sponges, rippling streams sing their songs loudly … you have to tread carefully exploring the wide-open landscape now.

Swirling clouds create an ink wash kaleidoscope that fills your eyes and the wind carries you along. It is an effort of will to stand still and take it all in, but the rewards are rich if you try. In moments like these my thoughts turn to the old days of sail and the order to ‘batten down the hatches’, only in this case it’s all about zipping up your coat as high as it will go and buttoning down the flaps … then you are all prepared!

Sometimes, as at Pwlldu Balance Pond, history once again comes to life. This was a pond created to allow a water balance lift to be used at the quarry below. For most of the year, the outline of the pond is barely recognisable at all to the untrained eye, but after periods of extremely wet weather its rectangular form is sharp and clear.

Y Gaeaf – Winter

To winter once again at the end of the year.

As I think about the words of N. Scott Momaday and his belief that we should all get to know a landscape well, becoming familiar with a local woodland would have to be a very good choice.

And for me, that is the Lasgarn Woodland. It greets me each morning as I pull back the curtains and, in these moments, I often think of its winding trails. It’s a great way to begin the day.

There are industrial scars here too, the quarrying of limestone was hugely important for the local ironworks and remnants of this past are scattered throughout the wood, but these are softened by the trees now.

It has become a focal point for me, whatever the season and in winter it is no less attractive. Above all, it is spiritual place, it nourishes my soul.

In winter the trees are such sculptural entities and in the quiet times, late of an afternoon, when the setting sun paints mystical colours between their open forms there is peace and tranquillity in great measure.

In the small, hidden spaces between the fallen leaves of autumn past, you will see new growth emerging, even in December, as green shoots of Wild Garlic make their appearance in preparation for next year’s spring show.

I have noticed myself stopping more and more on the steep, narrow path that I often take up to the heart of the woodland. Perhaps it is getting older or perhaps I find myself wondering more, who knows.

Strangely, I haven’t given the path itself too much thought before, simply seeing it just as a convenient way up. Now, I wonder if this was the route favoured by the quarrymen of old and even of people long before, in more ancient times.

How much power there is in words, they can stand the test of time and can travel far and wide. What better way to end than with the continuation of the quote from ‘The Way to Rainy Mountain’.

‘Once in his life a man ought to concentrate his mind upon the remembered earth, I believe. … He ought to imagine that he touches it with his hands at every season and listens to the sounds that are made upon it. He ought to imagine the creatures there and all the faintest motions of the wind. He ought to recollect the glare of noon and all the colors of the dawn and dusk.’
N. Scott Momaday

As I have read this lovely book and continue to read it, a phrase frequently pops into my mind from my daily Duolingo Welsh lessons:

‘Dylet ti roi’r gorau I ddarllen gymaint – You should give up reading so much!’

Well, after reading N. Scott Momaday I can think of nothing more delightful than reading as much as I can!

Nadolig Llawen a Blwyddyn Newydd Dda
Happy Christmas and Happy New Year

New for 2026
Look out for a new series of Nation Cymru articles exploring the South Wales Valleys and sometimes a little more, with Tom Maloney.