THE COUNTRY CHURCH
I stood looking across the field at the church and I knew I had to go and inspect it more closely. Since my childhood I have been entranced by small country churches and this one was no exception.
Nestled in a field of lush green grass, surrounded by tall, majestic trees, I am swept back to my youth. Running with friends through the grass outdoors, listening as the church bell chimes the holy hour. Settled into worn oak pews, the restlessness of youth was soon replaced by the studiousness of my teenage years.
Reaching into adulthood, our tiny country church became the place of sacred vows between man and woman, sealing our futures in God's lovely home. Parenthood arrived with several small children, each baptised in the church's font, loving cared for by the parson-keeper.
Now in the twilight of my life, my soul is called back to the church of my past. Although long gone with the strength of Mother Nature, this similar church still holds the charm of the one from my youth.
So, yes, I knew I had to go and inspect it more closely - because if I don't do it now, I may never get the chance again.
Friday, May 15, 2009
The Country Church
(Photo by Dan Felstead OF Wood and Pixels Narratives)