I've used Moomin as a nickname for my daughter since she was tiny. Fae but gentle and kind, she seemed very 'Moomin-like' and the name stuck. However, now she's a young woman and the name is less fitting, but she tolerates it all the same.
We walked around an Ancient churchyard in search of inspiration for her Art exams.
The headstones are so varied and unnusual here. It's a place of rest for the Bonham-Carters, although we could only find a couple of headstones for them. The metal ones below were extremely old and holding up better than some of the stones.
Moomin with her satchel and sketchbook.
I loved the skull and hourglass on this stone. The inscription was just too weathered to read, which was a great shame.
I lingered too long over family tombs that told tragic stories of families taken too young, sons killed in wars and mothers who died shortly after, from broken hearts maybe and I shed tears for people long dead and removed from the cares of this troubled world.
Often I find churchyards to be places of contemplation. A chance to remember how briefly we walk this earth and how little our daily woes really matter in the great tapestry of life. I just want to live well and be happy. It's a good place to start.
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