There’s something really appealing – to me anyway – about autumn in a graveyard. A towering shadowy church, Gothic tombstones, the reds, browns and yellows, crunching leaves beneath my feet and shafts of weakened sunlight highlighting the unusual. Perhaps being brought up on Hammer House of Horror movies has left a mark on me. I was creeping around the graveyard at Haworth church this week – nothing to do with any Boris Karloff fantasy I might have, but for an article on how the Brontes spent Christmas (to appear in our December issue) – and took this photo.
This is a blog about the Bronte Sisters, Charlotte, Emily and Anne. And their father Patrick, their mother Maria and their brother Branwell. About their pets, their friends, the parsonage (their house), Haworth the town in which they lived, the moors they loved so much, the Victorian era in which they lived.
zondag 13 november 2011
Graveyard
There’s something really appealing – to me anyway – about autumn in a graveyard. A towering shadowy church, Gothic tombstones, the reds, browns and yellows, crunching leaves beneath my feet and shafts of weakened sunlight highlighting the unusual. Perhaps being brought up on Hammer House of Horror movies has left a mark on me. I was creeping around the graveyard at Haworth church this week – nothing to do with any Boris Karloff fantasy I might have, but for an article on how the Brontes spent Christmas (to appear in our December issue) – and took this photo.
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