Agony written by a country churchyard

In a bid to say farewell to some of the places I’ve habitually cycled through, on Friday I took a roundabout route to Leafield, a quiet, hilltop village. It was all I could do to get out of my funk, as exchange still hadn’t happened, and I needed to get rid of the desire to smash crockery and punch walls.

The cycle ride was relaxing, through the low-slanted sunlight of an approaching September evening, and I even bumped into an old colleague as I plodded my way towards my goal. When I finally reached the village, the world held its breath and it was like a scene from the poem Adlestrop:

… for that minute a blackbird sang
Close by, and round him, mistier,
Farther and farther, all the birds
Of Oxfordshire and Gloucestershire.

yet another village to which I will likely not cycle again.

In the quiet suspense of the top of the hill, I wandered around Leafield’s churchyard properly for the first time. I circled the warmly grey-coloured church walls, spotting different flowers on different graves, and wondering what it meant to leave a tender begonia in memoriam, given the somewhat autumnal weather. It felt like there was something crouched, incipient, in the calm and the restfulness; given the stress of the past few days, it was the onset of either religiosity or a nervous breakdown on my part, perhaps.

As I went to re-mount my bicycle, swinging my right leg high to clear the saddle, I caught my thigh in my shorts material and mis-aimed. My knee cracked ringingly against the pannier rack, lifting the kneecap slightly; as I screwed my eyes up I swear I could see stars.

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This entry was posted in belief, christianity, comparative_religion, cotswolds, cycles, emotions, environment, fear, hope, location, mind, person, transport, understanding. Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Agony written by a country churchyard

  1. looby says:

    Did you see God in the firmament as well then?

    • smallbeds says:

      If I’ve seen that at all then it was a few months ago. Leafield arguably marks the nearest, southernmost point of the Cotswold hills proper near Witney, and you often get two weather systems either side of its ridge.

      I had climbed blithely up from the south once in lovely dotty clouds only to find sweeping proto-thunderstorms smeared entirely over the northern quadrant of the sky once I got there. So if I ever saw God in the firmament over Leafield, it was a God of anger and wrath. But then Cameron Country is the next stop for the clouds, so that would make sense.

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