My family’s history in these welsh hills goes back forever and forever. My dad is buried in the local tiny church, alongside his parents. I’m related to nearly all the people buried there. My grandparents bought an old stone house in the hills as a WWII wartime escape. It became their beloved family cottage. And then ours. We would drive through two fields of sheep (in a rental car!!) to reach it. It was once a resting hut for shepherds that had traveled far with the flocks. The beauty of this region touches me with equal force as it did in my childhood. This week my vivid memories were briefly transformed into reality, and shared with my kids and Justin. We had the wonderful opportunity to have tea with a dear old family friend and an equally dear relative. Both of them grew up in these hills, within 15 minutes walking distance to the stone cottage. It is a powerful feeling to share such a deep love of place.
My dad’s resting place ❤️ with his parents. Love the words etched in slate - “A physicist, champion of rights who cherished family above all else”. My dad always fought for underdogs.
Visits with locals, and a view to the ocean from the cottage:
This is the view from the family cottage that is etched in my heart forever:
“A term of Greek origin, "topophilia," combining "topos" (place) and "philia" (love or affection), refers to the deep-seated emotional bond or profound love that individuals often develop for specific places or environments. This powerful sentiment encapsulates a wide range of emotions such as satisfaction, attachment, fascination, and even nostalgia, all tied to distinct locales.”
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