"Beneath Those Rugged Elms, That Yew Trees Shade

Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap,

Each in his narrow cell for ever laid,

The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep."


I went to Epping Green churchyard this evening to shoot the cowslips, which are numerous and at the peak of perfection. Though walking amongst the graves, I wasn't thinking of death until I found this bleached rabbit skull. The swallow's twittering, the cock's call and the hunting horn will no longer wake the locals buried here or the hapless rabbit.