Thundridge Old Church

The road thins to dirt, then dust, then nothing. 

Where the hearths once warmed a village full of  hands, the village is now a memory of  the earth, swallowed completely by the green tide of the grass and ivy. 

Only the church tower still stands, a jagged finger of flint and mortar, pointing at an indifferent sky. Beneath it, a scattering of pale teeth in the tall grass, granite markers that lean, and give purchase to lichen. 

The rain has melted the names away, returning the fathers and the daughters to the quiet anonymity of the soil. 

Original available for purchase:

31 x 41 CM watercolour, framed and behind glass. £245