Frost and mist on the Frome

It was a misty and frosty morning, so Cwtch and I decided to have a wander down by the River Frome in Stapleton and Eastville.

Church of the Holy Trinity, Stapleton

First we headed down to the lake in Eastville Park. I had a hankering to see a heron ...  

... but the lake was heron-free and the fish breathed easy.

my favourite beech tree

I was a  bit surprised to see a tree in the water on the opposite side of the lake, assuming Storm Darragh, which was quite a while ago now, had brought it down, but when I got home, I read that it had fallen during peace time, so to speak, between Darragh and Storm Eowyn. As the water fowl are currently looking for nesting sites, it's going to stay put the time being.

purple jelly disc fungi

As the path on the other side of the lake was closed, I made my way back along a higher path through trees, from which there was a close-up view of the felled hornbeam. It's always sad to see a big tree downed.

There were several pairs of crows sitting about doing not a lot really ... 

... and near the favourite beech, three cormorants hanging out at the top of a tree. I took a video of the pair's courtship, but I can't seem to post videos right now, so here's a still instead. 

Back on the path, another look at the fallen tree, and ooh look, now there's four cormies.

magpie

Before we walked back up C*lston Hill, we made a quick detour to Wickham Bridge.

See, I'm a good girl and I don't chase bikes

lamp post base

Then it was back up through the lane with its ancient, buttressed walls ... 

... and past the church to the where our car was waiting for us. 

The next morning was much more dull, but we had unfinished business in Eastville park, namely, a walk to the hitherto-unvisited-by-us cemetery Ridgeway Park, which is situated at its edge.

Looking over to Purdown mast and Holy Trinity

Ridgeway Park Cemetery was established as a non-municipal cemetery in 1887, and was apparently wound up in 1949 ... 

... although according to this grave, James and Rosina Bywater, father and mother of Edna, who died aged 7 in 1910, joined her in 1963 and 1975 respectively. 

Now, don't you tread on those crocuses!

At the edge of the cemetery, it becomes wood with gravestones, much like its larger counterpart, Arnos Vale, in the south of the city. 

If we'd entered the cemetery through the main gates, we'd have seen that dogs are supposed to go in there, but having accessed it from the park, we missed the signs. In any case, Cwtch was well-behaved and respectful, unlike some of the vegetation. 

Tree eats headstone

Back down by the lake, the crows were still sitting about, wondering when it's time to start nest-refurbishing, but there was only one cormorant in the tree. Apparently they nest in Avon Gorge, so maybe the others were carrying out reconnaissance there.

Strangers' Burial Ground and Birdcage Walk

If there's something of a funereal feeling to some of these posts lately, well, it is winter. Also, as previously mentioned, my fellow IsamBards and I are engaged in a new project, namely writing for our forthcoming poetry walks around Arnos Vale. And this is all the excuse I need to get stuck into visiting some of the smaller graveyards and cemeteries around Bristol as well. (Which I've always loved doing, to be honest, but how I have Permission.)

One obscure burial ground I was unaware of until very recently is the Strangers' Burial Ground in Cliftonwood, so called because it was much used by visitors to the Bristol Hotwell, which was viewed in the late 18th century as the last resort of the incurable (but now known to have been so polluted as to be toxic). I even struggled to work out where it is online. 

However, compared with the arduousness of finding a parking place in Clifton, locating the site on foot was a doddle. (It's on Lower Clifton Hill, opposite the junction with Bellevue.) This is its impressive side wall. 

But - and here's the Disappointment - if my photos are all a bit long distance and crap, it's because the gate was locked. 

Must try to find out when it opens to the public.

A few minutes' walk away is the much better known Birdcage Walk, a pathway lined with pleached limes that leads through the churchyard of St Andrew's, which was Clifton's parish church until it was bombed on the first night of the Bristol Blitz, 24th November 1940. 

All that remains of St Andrew's

First, though, a mission, which was to locate the grave of Bristol poet, Anne Yearsley, a local milkwoman who turned out to have a gift for writing poetry, and who was patronised by Hannah More (until they fell out). Thanks to a tip-off on Twitter as to its approximate location - to the south of the ruined Church, in the right hand corner, near the road - this took all of five minutes.

Anne died in 1806. She's perhaps best remembered for her 1788 Poem on the Inhumanity of the Slave-Trade. 

Near Anne Yearsley's was the first of several gravestones that caught my attention. Well, a pair, in fact. 

It's dedicated to William Bridges (baptized 1717), his son, John, who was a soap boiler on Hotwells Road and who died in 1830, aged 70, and John's wife Sarah, who predeceased him in 1820, aged 53.






Adjacent is the gravestone commemorating their children:

Sarah, dd 1794, aged 1
John, dd 1803, aged 10
William, dd 1809, aged 14
Sarah, dd 1815, aged 11
Elizabeth, dd 1816, aged 12
James, dd  Feb 1817, aged 19
Maryann, dd June 1817, aged 10
William, dd 1824, aged 15
Thomas, dd 1828, aged 29
  
William and Sarah each lost the child named after them ... twice. 

I headed for the more picturesque part of the graveyard, which is in an interesting state of maintenance - ie part clipped and cared for, part wild and overgrown - and thus providing a variety of habitats for wildlife. 

I like the overgrown parts best, although it does make reading or even spotting the gravestones difficult. 

Down the far (tidier) end, I found some more sad stories. 

This is the gravestone of Margaret Rogers and two of the young children she had with her husband, James, in the 1830s; also, James and his second wife, Mary, and two of their children, all of whom died in the 1840s. I think the fact that the children's ages are counted in years, months, and even weeks in one case, gives the lie to the notion that the death of a child was somehow easier to bear in earlier centuries, when death in infancy and childhood was more common than it is now.

The grave of Selena Theodosia, who died in 1803, aged three months. Let's hope that the lack of companions on her headstone means that her parents were able to rebuild their lives elsewhere. 

Sacred to the memory of Ann, daughter of William and Ann Waters, who died Oct 10^th 1833, aged 9 years.

Also of Keturah, sixth daughter of the above, who died March 14^th 1847, aged 3 years

Also of Robert, eldest son of the aforesaid who was accidentally drowned at Chepstow, August 19^th 1850, aged 20 years

Also of George, their third son, who was accidentally drowned near Shirehampton, the 19^th of April 1864, aged 29 years

After a long and painfull illness, the aforesaid Ann Waters died 26^th January 1868, aged 67 years

William himself died in Shirehampton in 1877, aged 77 years

Some of the gravestones are lettered in moss ... 

... others so weathered they look like barely started jigsaw puzzles ...

... whose stories won't last another winter. 

By now I was immersed in the past and being reminded of some of the wonderful books of my childhood, by authors such as Leon Garfield and Joan Aiken ... 

...  in no small part, I think, due to the yellow foliage of the limes, which was bright even in the failing afternoon light.