Harvest Festival

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bats, church, church decorations, Evensong, flowers, Harvest, hot-air balloon, Rumburgh, sowing

Rumburgh Church

Here is an autumn photograph of my church taken on Sunday as we were on our way to get it ready for the Harvest Evensong service.  R is one of the Churchwardens and so we got there early to make sure all was tidy (no bat poo on the pews) and to turn on the lights and take the plastic covers off everything.  As I have said before, our poor church is damp and has a colony of bats living in it and to protect the furniture etc. we have to cover what we can with bits of plastic sheet.  No money to repair the church, no money to buy proper protective covers, not enough money for anything, unfortunately.  I like bats and am very pleased that we have two resident pipistrelle bats that fly round our house every evening.  However, I am not happy about the bats that live in our church because of the damage their urine and faeces do.  The urine especially is so acidic it etches into all the furniture, pictures and flooring.  We have to be so careful when serving refreshments after service in case food and drinks are contaminated.  Bats are protected and it is virtually impossible to get them moved elsewhere.

Our benefice is made up of eleven parish churches and one redundant church which we use once or twice a year.  We have one over-worked priest who has recently acquired an assistant (actually the priest in the next-door benefice who does holiday and sickness cover which is reciprocated), a couple of retired priests who step in when needed, one reader and two elders who take services without communion.  All of the churches in the benefice like to have their own harvest festivals, so for weeks on end there are one or two harvest services on most Sundays.  Last Sunday was the third consecutive week of harvest and our service was taken by Maurice, one of the Benefice Elders.  Next Sunday and the following one there are no Harvest services but then they start up again and we have another three consecutive weeks of ‘We Plough the Fields and Scatter’ right through until the end of October.

Decorated pulpit. Our talented flower arrangers make the church look so bright and festive.

Any harvest contributions of food, fruit and vegetables at our church go to Adele House, a nursing home run by the convent at All Hallows.  Other churches in the benefice send their contributions to a local food bank which provides food parcels for the needy.

Decorated Rood Screen.

The Chancel

The Font

The Altar

The Porch

The Porch. Look at the enormous beetroot!

Bunches of wheat tied to the pew ends.

One of these window sills was decorated by me.

The church just before the service started.

Maurice plays the organ so he gets plenty of exercise, walking up and down the aisle from the front of the church to the back where the organ is then back to the front again then up the steps to the pulpit.

We were very lucky to get 23 people at our Evensong service – no children sadly.

Today, I noticed that the field at the back of the house was being worked on again.

Sowing the seed. I apologise for the poor quality photo. The sun was setting and it was a little hazy too.

After the coldest August in many, many years we have had a very warm and fairly dry September.  There has been mist and fog in the morning occasionally which has made driving to Norwich difficult.  It is all set to change this weekend with a storm coming in off the Atlantic which will get to us in the East sometime on Saturday.  When it has passed through the temperature will drop considerably, so we are told.  Yesterday evening I noticed a hot-air balloon in the sky – a Virgin sponsored one.  The thermals must have been just right.

E used to call them ‘hot hair balloons’.

Thank-you for visiting my blog.

 

 

Centenary of the start of World War I and Harvest

Tags

combine harvester, dust, First World War, flies, Harvest, noise, requiem eucharist, St Michaels church, thankful village, WWI centenary

It is that time of year again already.  We are surrounded by dust and the almost continuous noise of farm machinery.  Since our return from our holiday at the beginning of July the fields have been systematically stripped of their crop which has then been transported to silos or barns.

The first places to be worked on were the commons and strips of common land at the sides of the lanes.  All the grasses and seeded wild flowers, as well as a few plants just coming into flower, to my disappointment, were cut and baled up for hay.  The verges to the lanes were cut and the hedges and trees were cut back with great slashers.  The fields of oil-seed rape were harvested and then the barley.  And now the wheat fields, including the one at the back of our house.

Good-bye, wheat!

Once the fields are harvested the straw is baled and transported away to be stored, muck is spread on the fields and then they are ploughed.  With nowhere to live once the grain has been cut the flies are homeless – for a while – until they discover our house!  We have a choice; either keep the windows and doors shut and boil or open them and let the flies in.  We have a rudimentary fly-screen on the conservatory door but none anywhere else.  Netting can be attached to windows but that makes opening and shutting them difficult and the rooms gloomy.  Houses in this country do not come with proper fly-screens on doors or windows as a matter of course and I wish they did.

This now brings me to the centenary of the start of the First World War.  That mowing down of men and the harvest of souls.

Today, the 3rd of August, R and I attended a Requiem Eucharist at St Michael’s church to mark the centenary of the outbreak of the Great War.  I will quote the introductory address made by our rector this morning.  He wishes me to point out that his point of reference for the general facts and figures was a speech made by the Prime Minister recently.  The East Anglian information was from his own research.

‘One hundred years ago, on 3rd August 1914, the Foreign Secretary, Sir Edward Grey, explained to the House of Commons why Britain was obliged to go to war with Germany.  His speech, with its heavy heart and its clear argument, was greatly admired.  Then he returned to the Foreign Office, and worked til dusk.  He looked up from his desk and saw the man lighting the gas lamps in St James’s Park below.  “The lamps are going out all over Europe,” Grey said to his companion, “We shall not see them lit again in our lifetime.”  At 11.00 p.m. the following day Britain declared war on Germany.

When they set out, with the blessings of their respective Churches, none of the armies had any idea of the length and scale of the trauma that was going to enfold.  For many, going off to war was a rite of passage, and in East Anglia “patriotism” was low on the list of reasons for the boys and men to leave their villages.  Agriculture was going through a deep depression that had been set in motion at the start of the century by endless rain and huge grain imports form the prairie farms of North America and Canada.  Many people had already fled to the towns to seek work, and consequently family farms had collapsed and fields were empty.  To those who remained, the War offered a golden opportunity to get off the hated land.  And so they enlisted in a state of excitement.  They would now eat better and have access to free medical care, and many thought they’d be home by Christmas, anyway.

Four months later, one million had died in the heavy artillery battles that presaged the digging of the trenches.  Four years later, the death toll of military and civilians stood at over 16 million, nearly 1 million of them Britons.  20,000 were killed on one day of the Battle of the Somme.  The death and the suffering was on a scale that outstrips any other conflict, and for evidence of that we only have to look at the Great War memorials in our villages, our churches, our railway stations, schools and universities.

Out of more than 14,000 parishes in the whole of England and Wales, there are only 51 so-called ‘thankful parishes’, which saw all their soldiers return.  Every single community in Scotland and Northern Ireland lost someone, and the death toll for Commonwealth personnel was similarly catastrophic.  The then Indian empire lost more than 70,000 people; Canada lost more than 60,000, so did Australia; New Zealand lost 18,000.  And as part of the UK at the time, more than 200,000 Irishmen served in the British forces during the war, with more than 27,000 losing their lives.

This was the extraordinary sacrifice of a generation, and it is right that we should remember them.’

Last year a couple of men journeyed around England and Wales on their motorbikes, visiting all the Thankful villages.  They contacted the Rector to let him know of their intention of visiting the church of St Michael and the date when we were to expect them.  They kindly had a slate plaque made for all the villages they visited and today this was unveiled during the service.  One of the bikers attended the service along with the local Councillor and the descendants of two of the returning soldiers.  All of the parishes in our Benefice were represented at the service and there were so many in the church there was standing room only.

The new slate plaque

As the plaque was unveiled by Dolly, who is one of the church wardens at St Michael and also a descendant of two of the people on the Roll of Honour, the biker who had presented the plaque  Councillor Colin Law read a poem by Anthony Devanny.

We are indeed the lucky and unlucky ones,

As we are the ones who have lived

to tell the tales of those we once knew

We are the ones who carry those scars

of things seen, done and lost

We are the ones who must never let those who are not here

be forgotten by the new

 

We are the ones who will never need to be reminded

that “We will Remember Them”

as we are the ones who will always remember

those we forever call friend

The Rector had also compiled Roll of Honour folders for all the parishes in his benefice, detailing all that can be discovered about the men who died and all that can be found out about the men who returned to St Michael’s.  After all the parish representatives had collected their folders, together we all quoted the poem by John McCrae.

We are the Dead.  Short days ago

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

Loved and were loved, and now we lie

In Flanders fields.

The whole service was very moving and I was so glad to have been there and to have taken part in it.

Photos of the guests and congregation chatting over coffee and biscuits after the service.  We also sang ‘Happy Birthday’ to the Rector and wished him many happy returns for which he excommunicated us.  But not really.  I hope!

We said cheerio to the biker outside and admired his bike.

 

The field next to the church had been borrowed to use as a car park.

It was definitely needed!

 

 

 

 

   We will remember them