Churchyard

 Dear Reader,

                                                                      Norman Churches

I spent most of yesterday watching the Coronation ceremonies and, in particular, our King being crowned.  It was all magnificent and I felt quite tearful watching the parade of marching soldiers.  Weren't they stunning? Never put a foot wrong as far as I could see. But seeing into the inside of the Abbey was very interesting for just this reason. Or one of the reasons. How on earth did builders build those large and intricate arches?  I mean this was thousands of years ago with no modern technology to help them.  I read a book years ago, called "The Spire" by William Golding, about the building of a church tower and as far as I can remember everything had to be carried up to the spire by men climbing ladders with buckets full of mud and whatever else was needed. Perhaps it was something like that used for the Abbey. Anyway I thought Westminster Abbey was awe inspiring and plan to visit it when I go to London.

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I wrote today's poem after a visit to a small Norman Church tucked away in the Cotswold countryside.  The weather up to that date had been very grim, cold, wet and miserable but somehow on this particular day a weak sun shone, in the icy cold.  The small Norman church lies in a small hamlet surrounded by hills and sheep.  And silence everywhere, not a sound to be heard. The churchyard looked very beautiful and I felt enormous spirituality and peace there.  I felt angels guarded this very special place and were there with me.

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From William Cobbett, May 7th, 1823 in Surrey

'The bloom of the fruit trees is the finest I ever saw in England.  The pear-bloom is, at a distance, like that of the Guelder Rose; so large and bold are the bunches. The plum is equally fine;and even the blackthorn (which is the hedge-plum) has a bloom finer than I ever saw it have before'.

From Nathaniel Hawthorne, May 10th, 1857 in Lancashire

'Nothing but cold east winds, accompanied with sunshine......At the beginning of this month I saw fruit trees in blossom, stretched out flat against stone wall, reminding me a a dead bird nailed against the side of the barn.....The east wind feels ever rawer here than in the city (Liverpool).'

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Churchyard

 

The day was ice cold,
frost sparkled on hedges and trees.
Grass glittered in
the graveyard of the old
Norman church,
still standing firm and solid.

A ghostly haze hung over the|
headstones, banks and banks
of snowdrops sheltered under
trees in great clumps,
a few early daffodils peeped out'

There was silence everywhere.

Far away hills and fields
filled my vision and
spirituality filled the air.
Angels flew around me,
shared their
paradise of quiet perfection
and love.

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My novel : Victoria Scott's Dilemma is available here. It is rather a charming romantic tale with lots of laughter.  Look on Amazon under books: Patricia Huth Victoria and it will come up.

 

                                                   VICTORIA  SCOTT'S  DILEMMA

 

                                                                PATRICIA HUTH

 

Hello America, I love you.  I had over 1,000 hits on my blog last week, mostly I think from California. I can't work out what it is about my small, fairly insignificant writings that you like. Would any of you think of writing to tell me: patricia.huthellis@googlemail.com  my email address, and I will be most grateful. And do buy my book.  I think you would enjoy it as you enjoy my blog.

With very best wishes, Patricia