The soul, fortunately, has an interpreter—often an unconscious, but still a truthful interpreter—in the eye. —Charlotte Bronte
I opened my eyes to blue skies. The first sun in ten days! What a relief.
On my way to the park for a run, I happened upon a small enclave out of the 19th century—St. John's Wood Church and churchyard.
It put me in mind of all those 19th century English novels I read and loved as a young woman...grey stone parsonages, grim vicars, lych gates and mossy gravestones where memories of the dead are slowly being erased by time. (Of course, I'm in contemporary London, not in Haworth, but imagination easily fills in any romantic gaps.)
Here is what my camera saw.