Dazed by Memories

When I arrive at Robin's grave this afternoon  I notice that one of the big protective grandfather trees close by has been cut down.....leaving a tall leaning totem pole behind but no spreading shade  branches.

I bring  a straggly bunch of rosemary, choysia ternata - Mexican orange blossom, bluebells, and a kind of comfry with a tiny blue flower which grows rampant in our garden. I lay them over the Budleigh stones. They will wilt in the sun and be faded by tomorrow.

I sit cross legged on his grave, almost completely grown over now, surrounded by the perfume of newly mown grass, the rosemary and choysia and the sound of birdsong in the  trees all round me. And him.

I stay a long time, the sun bearing down on my hat - I want to tell him about the house and everything that's happening. .....and then get dazed by memories. 

When the shade creeps in I unravel myself and 

 take a walk in the rest of the cemetery

which is enfolded in spring greenness.

 Then I spy this glorious hill of rhododendron blossom 

drooping over an old grave stone  - a white refuge tent.

I wonder if I could plant one for Robin next to his grave, to replace the loss of the grandfather tree...instead of a memorial stone - an evergreen carapace, briefly blooming in spring, to commemorate the beauty of his soul.