A beautiful Cycle - Sheffield - England - anywhere

---

Ash is falling. A winter bonfire is crackling to my right being fed by seven behatted fire-feeders with a possible combined age of 490 years

They feed the furious flames with branches from these old self-seeded trees that litter the cemetery. Ash falls like snow.

This place is a quiet haven, holding some of the great families of Sheffield’s dead. The orchestra assemble to practice in the church, in the warm – away from this sharp frost – I saw only one young among them arrive on his bike with his violin on his back. I can hear the saxophonist practicing in the nave.

Ash in my hair.

Two trees have grown from the body of Albert Edward Waterfall, dead and buried 147 years ago. Albert senior joined his son 59 years later – father, wife, brother sister are all there.

Ash is falling thickly. Everywhere smells of smoke.

If I press my ear to the bark of the tree, can I hear down to the roots entwined in family conversations below? Two full generations talking into the tree roots. If I listen hard I may hear 1865. A beautiful cycle opens before my eyes.



the trees grow from the bodies in the graves

branches fall

get added to the roaring bonfire

smoke rises and ash falls like snow

back down across the graves, down into the earth

back into the bodies down below



I have a fear of death but today, I saw and felt this beautiful cycle and felt less afraid. I walk away leaving the winter fire to warm the frosted earth and the bodies deep below.

---

Photos

two trees
Albert Edward Waterfall

watching
listening to Peter and the wolf

hello alpaca
ringinglow