Rosehips and ruins

I passed through the cemetery on my way home once again, and stopped to snap the view over Butterow with my camera adjusted to various settings. Then put it away, and noticed these bright scarlet rosehips, so got it out again. As long as I get home in time for Pointless, who cares how long it takes?

We had chips for lunch, with the children, today (they had fish fingers and beans too!) in the nursery, because the dining hall was being painted by some people who work at a bank. We also took the children down to the Sensory room, which they loved. It's full of colour, light, sound and texture. Speaking of which, I am off to the first gig of the Stroud Folk festival later tonight (it's now in its second year) so must haste awa' to cook to the supper first.

Expect beards, Morris dancers and sea shanties in blips to follow!

Stroud Hill cemetery is managed (in in the old part) as a nature reserve, so parts of it are left to get on with themselves, and tended occasionally on a rotational basis. It is, if you will, intentionally overgrown. The more modern part, where people tend to be buried nowadays, is more conventionally maintained. I love old country cemeteries; my mother lives next to one, though she is set to move quite soon.