Pot luck

The new cemetary in my village doesn't have the same gothic atmosphere as the old one next to the church. It's just too new with its shiney marble and granite. I wandered about this afternoon among the rows and rows of identical headstones grumbling because a dirty great big tractor had just mown all the lovely meadow grass I had wanted to photograph. Then I saw this little wooden cross with a pot on top. How curious. It reminded me of a flower pot man. Someone must have cared about it once because some plastic flowers, now weather worn and faded, had been laid next to it. Who knows when that was. It may be the poor relation, but I really like it. It has character ...