Lucy is very near to being murdered at the moment, threet nights on the run and she has had her 'mad' time. Last night as I catnapped on the sofa, she emptied the log basket, started on the book shelf and generally made as much noise as she could wandering round the room like a demented canine Macbeth. I think it is something to do with how dark it becomes in the evening, her life before being locked up in a shed, starting to haunt her. Or could it be what she has eaten? finishing off a bit of salmon last night. Methinks tranquilllisers for one of us!
Well Ophelia went by here without too much trouble, windy yes, but no trees down, leaves yes but today it is quiet the sun is out and a few roses make their second coming, always welcome.
Here I lie by the churchyard door
Here I lie because I'm poor
The further in, the more you pay
But here lie I as warm as they.
Daniel Gumb
Linkinhorne Church an earlier blog on Daniel Gumb
And now to a church, Daniel Gumb has been haunting me for a long time, after seeing his rocky home at the Cheesewring on Bodmin Moor, where he lived with his second wife and a hoard of children on the moors, his ability to educate himself and carve beautiful gravestones is interesting. That he was character and respected in his own time in the 18th century, for Paul's cousin Sue remembered some papers she had seen written by him with mathematical annotations in one of the big old houses in Cornwall.
We went to the above church where a couple of gravestones had been done by him, this was in Linkinhorne I think it was called St, Melor (no time for the saint at the moment). The incident both Paul and I remember was of a great owl being ambushed by some crows as the owl flew from the church, probably looking for young crows. I have just read that this Norman church must have had an earlier history because of the Celtic carving round the South porch and the font. Don't think we went inside sadly just wandered around the old churchyard. So some photos of this church.
I love the easy atmosphere of old graveyards, hardly decipherable 18th century gravestones, respectfully written, you wonder about all those who could not afford one, where did they get buried?
Daniel's lettering was of the finest, his 'celtic' curves deliciously executed ;)
I enjoy visiting old cemeteries and reading the inscriptions on the tombstones. Unfortunately, time and weather have erased much of the stories that they told.
ReplyDeleteIt tells of a time when people believed so fundamentally in God, and the words were meant to span future centuries I suppose. Yet when I watch the grave yard we are next to I am touched how people remember their dead with flowers on a regular basis.
DeleteSo frustrating that one cannot say to a pet, 'Look here, its going to be alright--you are safe--do stop this madness!' Our Charlie-cat is not destructive, but if left inside overnight he roams the house and wails until one of us gets out of bed and ushers him out the front door.
ReplyDeleteYes, sadly we do not have the language of either cat or dog to reassure them. Do you not have a cat-flap, but then in America you might get unwelcome visitors.
DeleteNo cat flap--we have outside cats who don't have house 'manners'--and I'd hate to think of a visiting possum entering the house.
DeleteMy friend has a Jack Russell who had a troubled earlier life and she has never really recovered. She is now fourteen, going blind and beginning with dementia the vet thinks - and still he old life haunts her sometimes. I tell my friend that she has to take comfort that for the last eight years or so she has given her little dog comfort and love.
ReplyDeletePaul reckoned it might have been the storm, though Lucy is rather deaf, last night she slept normally, was it the 'stay-calm' pill I had bought? I thought should we go to the vet or start at the pet shop. Pet shop won, interesting conversation with the young man who lived in the next village on parish meetings ensued ;)
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