It was a Summer Sunday, June 6th 1790 when Rebekha was twenty one years old when she took another journey. A local trip this time and probably not involving a horse. She took a walk through country lanes full of the scents of wild blossoms and birdsong, towards the tiny church of St. Madoc’s.
She carried with her a small bundle of joy and a heart filled with sorrow. It would be the day when her daughter Ann would be baptised by the Rector Moses Grant. Again, in my mind’s eye, I hear Rebekha quietly singing to her child, as she patiently tried to hush and shush the baby.
In and out the dusty bluebells,
In and out the dusty bluebells.