It wasn’t intentional. We drove past this lovely looking church on our way to the Tremenheere Sculpture garden where we had intended to have lunch. As we reached our destination we saw the sign: Closed Saturday June 4th for a private wedding party. Garden and nursery open as usual. Typical. This is not the first time this has happened to me, and probably won’t be the last. Undeterred we went in to the nursery where I parted with the best part of £30 for some succulents for my newly discovered stone sink, once hidden under brambles in the car parking area of my new garden and now languishing on the patio, ready to be filled.
As we didn’t feel like driving around too far (it was hot and now we had a boot full of plants to consider) we drove back home via Ludgvan as we had noticed a traditional looking pub next door to the church on passing through. People in the nursery hadn’t recommended this particular pub, The White Hart, but we will try anything once and we weren’t especially wanting a bistro pub, just good tasty inexpensive pub food and we didn’t particularly want to go into Penzance.
Which is what we got. Thick slabs of ham, orange-yolked free range eggs and hand cut and cooked chips for me, Cheesy mash topped fish pie and salad leaves for OH (I let him have some of my chips) and a small glass of decent SB wine. Good, tasty pub food. We even sat outside under the parasol and enjoyed the view of the road lined with trees and shrubs and the impressive church in front of us.
It seemed rude not to visit the church, so we climbed up the rather steep, worn and uneven granite steps and entered a delightful, old, churchyard. Gravestones beckoning me as they always do amidst wild flowers, cow parsley, fuchsias, aromatic choisya and a lawn scattered with daisies.
Weep not for me my Friends so dear,
Because I’m gone so soon,
The finest flowers that do appear
They oft times fade at noon.
I do like a good look around a churchyard, in particular an old churchyard where nature has reclaimed the land and headstones rise through the wild flowers as if they have always belonged there. Ancient stone covered in moss and lichens, crumbling away. No-one to put flowers on the plot any more. But flowers abound and not only natural ones. Carved by hand, lilies, roses and daisies decorate the headstones, none of those horrid modern rectangular blocks of shiny black marble that hold no appeal for me.
The pathway is a mown strip and draws me down to the end where some headstones are almost lost in the wilderness.
Looking back towards the church you can see the tower now, which looks disproportionately large compared with the rest of the building.
Some of the headstones stop me in my tracks and make me wonder about the lives of the people who once lived around here. Why did these children ‘fall asleep’, how many were there, how old? I almost sense the desperation of the parents who no doubt spent much of their time in this churchyard and church.
In another part of the churchyard are more headstones, these seem to be even older and much of the writing on them has worn away. Thickly coated in lichens.
And hidden at the far back, in the gloom of the trees is an angel.
My one and only angel.
Strictly speaking this is more of a stroll than a walk, but it has been a long time since I linked up to Jo’s Monday Walks so I hope she doesn’t mind.
If you enjoy a walk, long or short, then have a look at Jo’s site where you are welcome to join in.