When I saw these it was a grey, overcast afternoon so even though they were almost hidden at the foot of a bank and partly covered by the overhanging branches of a fir tree they stood out in the gloom like a puddle of sunlight. They’re in one of the oldest parts of the cemetery, where trees that were planted many years ago have grown over and around the graves and the roots have toppled gravestones. I clambered over one that had fallen nearby, apologising to Ethel Watson as I did so – I always try not to walk on graves, though here it’s often hard to avoid it. The inscription at the head of her stone reads ‘Perfect Rest and Peace’, and for the few moments that I sat there gazing and taking photographs, that’s how I felt as well.
A little later and the sun did break through, so there really was sunshine on the ground – and in the branches of the trees behind. The sun stayed out as I walked home.