Kneelers

We have all missed certain things during these lockdown days, some things more than others of course.   I have missed being able to hug my grandchildren and family but, in general, social distancing is fine by me.  Perhaps that is why I enjoy the world of blog - good friends to chat to, interesting articles to read, but no one physically  close enough to be shocked at my wrinkles, the lack of makeup, or the bristly moustache worthy of a walrus...

I have missed my little jaunts out into the folds of The Wolds,  exploring the many beautiful rural Lincolnshire churches.    Pre-plague days many of them were left open during daylight hours so I would often take myself off to enjoy the church architecture, the medieval artifacts, stained glass, the effigies and to soak up the atmosphere.   

Some churches are empty, no matter how well furnished, clean and polished they may be, and there are others which are filled with warmth and welcome, in spite of having been declared redundant.

Folk art, creativity and love is also on display in some churches.   Simply look at the kneelers/hassocks.  Some are stitched to a set design or are done in regulation colours.  They look neat, but they seem very dull  compared to those  which seem to tell the story of someone who was loved and missed.

Maybe the one above was stitched in memory of Farmer X who was, perhaps,  often to be seen ploughing the fields in his little blue tractor.

Was this to remember someone who went wild fowling, or simply loved his dogs and ducks - perhaps his local pub was 'The Dog and Duck'...

In memory of someone who loved to fish, perhaps.

More country scenes, I like the simplicity and the little details which personalise and anchor them to a place.











One of the 'Tennyson'churches has this kneeler - when I first saw it I found it amusing and thought there had to be a story behind it.    There is, I found this in one of my local history books...

On the green, where Bag Enderby Lane leaves the road from Harrington, is the shell of an old elm of enormous girth.   John Wesley is reputed to have preached under the boughs of the tree.    The trunk of the old tree is decayed to such an extent that children used to play in it.   The Tennyson children (Alfred Tennyson, the poet, born in 1809, and his siblings) built a swing on a branch which conveniently spread out horizontally.  

At one time the bough jutted out across the lane, so that traffic had to make a diversion round.   It was long enough for the whole of the population of the village (an extremely small village, by the way) to sit on it at the same time.

I have plenty more images to show you, but I imagine that this must be almost as tedious as being obliged to watch someone's homemade holiday videos!



I will leave you with just one more.    A  tractor which could well have been the symbol I would have picked to put on a kneeler for a farming friend.   She was rarely seen anywhere without her little red tractor.

You should be able to 'click' and enlarge any you can't see very clearly.

I hope you enjoy the rest of your weekend!
x

p.s.  Sorry, I never could count accurately. 😉