Dew Cansves Dedh Dogans (Dew Ügens) hag Onan
De Yow, degves warn ügens mis Est.
Thursday, 30th August.
Nag ew an powdir teller dison. Hedhyw me alja clowes kerry havyjy war an vorr(vor’) veur, an jynn mejy tiek en ogas, ha myjer glesin o gour. An son a jynnweythow. Adhves lowr dhe voas trehys ew an ys e'n prasow, keth ew behatna an trevajow e’n vledhen-ma ha berr ew an cala. Nag ew an gwels et agan lowarth hir saw an whenn ew pur hir solabres. Ma pedry pronter, dans lew, pawbran ha “brath hok” (my translation).
The countryside is not a quiet place. Today I could hear cars of summer visitors on the highway, the harvester of a nearby farmer, and my husband’s lawn mower. The sound of machinery. The corn in the fields is mature enough to be cut, though the yields this year are smaller and the straw is short. The grass in our garden is not long but the weeds are already very tall. There is knapweed, dandelion, buttercup and hawkbit.
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