Beneath the earth’s skin the muscles stir, the bones awake,
She stretches ,yawns and breathes .
And all about her yearns to break out and sing the sun’s song to the trees.
The cross-head dedicated to St Canna, has on it’s front-side, a crucifixtion scene with Christ on the cross and a person at either side. The right hand figure could be holding up a swab on a long pole (St John) or it could be St Longinus the centurion piercing the side of Christ with his lance, whilst on the left side a figure with a strange-shaped head appears to be crouching down. This figure could be the devil. The figure below Christ seems to be stretching out his arms in thanksgiving and holding a small cross in his hand. The reverse side of the cross bears a plain Greek cross.
The churchyard is circular indicating that the site is a pre-Christian one. St Canna was a Breton princess, daughter of Tudur Mawr, who came to Wales in the 6th century with her husband, St Sadwrn, and her son, St Crallo. They became active Christian missionaries, each founding their own church. Near the church is Ffynnon Ganna – St Canna’s Holy Well. There is another Llangan, in Dyfed.
November was soft and gentle.The shorter evenings were welcomed with log fires and candles as the world curled up for another season of sleep and quiet dark rest.I hoped for snow once more . Once more no snow came, nor frost ,all storms were yet to come .
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.