A WALNUT TREE WEDDING AND THE RIVER DOVE
102 years ago a baby girl was born in Hartington. Who could have foreseen, that a baby boy born in Scotland around the same time, would stop a night in that tiny Derbyshire hamlet, on war leave, and the two would fall in love and be married 3 weeks later. I was privileged to conduct the wedding of their daughter, under a walnut tree many years later. When the threads of gold spun by that Hartington baby and her beloved had reached their end in this life, having loved one another for 68 long and good years, I was asked to scatter their ashes into the crystal waters of the River Dove at Beresford Dale. This month, I returned again to scatter the ashes of another beloved family member. Moments of eternity, when the mysteries of our lives tug close that gossamer veil between earth and heaven, and we are stilled in awe, as nature folds close around, and the river of time continues on its incessant way and we are returned, as flakes of yesterday, into the womb of creation, from whence we came, in hope of what may lie beyond.
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