Weeds.

Dear Reader.

Me and my dad were standing in a grave yard the other day. It was just that my dad had something to do that meant he needed to go to the church on the grave yard's land and I enjoy hanging round graveyards (its a hazard of being a vicars kid that you get used to death, I even know what hymns I want at my funeral. I don't know what hymns I want for my wedding... I'm not sure what that means). Every way we walked in this grave yard there were weeds everywhere. Trees, shrubs, balsom, flowers and grass grew up between the stones and vines and moss sometimes engulfed the stones entirely. And I kind of felt wierd about it firstly because I felt sad that any of the people underground were entirely forgotten and were never to be mourned because now, no one could actually see who the graves were occupied by. And secondly because I realised with a little element of the macabre that every single tree, plant, bird, fly and ant were probably grown and fed from the bodies that lay beneath the ground. Then I wondered if it would be better to keep the weeds after all. It would remind people.

Narrow-bordered Five-spot Burnet.

I think I saw one of these in the grave yard, its a moth not a butterfly (and no I didn't take the picture). Its quite beautiful isn't it?