Woodland Burial

Back blipping.

Today was the day we had arranged to inter Mum’s ashes. They are contained in an oak casket, buried beside a young oak tree, with a plaque set on a piece of York stone.

It is a beautiful setting. The park was created by JA, who Dad went to school with. He took on the family funeral business, and with the town and surrounding areas growing so fast he tried to persuade the local council that a crematorium was needed in the town itself. He ended up going ahead on his own, and a fine job he has made of it. He was by all accounts quite a character, Mum and Dad really enjoyed his talks to the local history group. His daughter now runs the firm, she is the tenth generation to do so.

The crematorium deliberately faces the nearby village church on the ridge opposite, it’s spire is visible in this shot. Mum loved trees, and she loved the countryside, so this setting seems perfect. I read Pam Ayres poem “woodland burial”, and we stood around sharing memories of Mum. A covey of grey partridge flew in towards the end, landing fifty yards behind us. The Park could be a nature reserve, the flora and wildlife here are as good as many reserves I’ve visited. It will be a good place to come back to to remember Mum.

Afterwards the others went to a nearby village pub for drinks, we toasted Mum with a glass at the Tree House later. It wasn’t long after we left the Park that the heavens opened and we had several hours of heavy rain. That will help these young oaks, planted here last winter, since May they have had water bags set around them to keep them alive, their root systems need to develop and go deep.