We stumbled on the little village church on the day of a well dressing, when the well-head is decorated with scenes made of flower petals and is blessed for the coming year. Each village chooses a particular theme, this parish had chosen to commemorate those who had served and suffered in the Great War.
Even in such a small place the numbers of young men and women were appalling… a whole generation cut from the family tree in many households. Yet the vilage had chosen to pay their tribute with flowers. The fragility of the petals is, perhaps, a perfect reminder of the fragility of life.
There was a gentle warmth about the place. The medieval church was filled with music and colour, yet its history, carved in wood and stone, held all within its embrace.
For me there was something wholly English about the scene. Not only the colours…
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Thank you!
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Such a beautiful church, Sue! One day I’ll get to travel there and see them for myself. Love to you and Ani. @v@ ❤
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When you do, Viv, let me know and I’ll show you… x
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Beautiful! ❤
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