Pure white bindweed grows in the hedge
and white daisies litter the grass around the graves.
The cemetery is the least oppressive place
I can think of, nobody insists on forcing
garish flowers or elaborate funeral processions
on the tranquil scene. Now and then somebody
sits on one of the benches which are dotted around
the perimeter; the ones resting here don't mind at all.
The concept of trespass is unknown.
Some officious person keen on Health And Safety decided that nearly all the crosses were unsafe, in danger of falling over if the living should lean against them or shake them loose - most unlikely, as all who come here, the troubled and untroubled, be they mourners or those just visiting, are instantly stilled by the tranquility and hushed into a calm and peaceful frame of mind. But once these matters have been mentioned, they need to be acted upon, hence the dismantling of the gravestones.
The cattle in the field behind saw it happen, ruminated for a little while, then turned their attention back to more pressing matters. Now that the fuss is over and the 'job's-worths' have been satisfied, it will be a long time before noisy tools return to the cemetery to finish the job.
I doubt that the dead are bothered.
This post joins the many who have banded together to show the best of their world in Our World Tuesday.