St. Kenelm

As many of you know, I am not a city girl. I need a place to go that is close to home and a source of comfort and peace. That place has become St. Kenelm church. The church is in a minimally populated area called Romsley. I love all of it. The small paved entryway off of the road,the arch and wooden carving on it as you enter the grounds are just the beginning. The small church is in a sideways view from the entryway. The grass high above the cement on both sides as you enter.

St. Kenelm is a saint by legend, murdered at the site of this church by a jealous sister that wanted to succeed him as as monarch... legend states that he was only a boy of 7 or 8. Pilgrims used to visit the site when it was a spring only in the hopes of miracles and cures for all sorts of ills. The church was financed by one of the pilgrims of higher standard that claimed was cured of illness. St Kenelm is mentioned in the Canterbury Tales....we've all read that haven't we? I did...so many years ago.

The grounds are medeival and evocative. Behind the church are trails that have been managed and renovated, but still hold a kind of magic that I can't explain. Alongside the trail near the church are wooden carved plaques of sorts with the names of Kenelm and his father KIng Kenulph carved in them. They are rather haunting, as are the swashes of clothing tied to a small area of trees nearby. Matt finds them troubling, I find them fascinating and somehow comforting. Apparently, JRR Tolkien found it comforting here as well as he recovered from a war injury in the Black Country. I only discovered that today...I'm not surprised.
The St. Kenelm trail is some 60 to 80 odd miles in total starting from this church and including the Clent Hills...another stunning place...also medieval and magical. We have yet to do even a good portion of the trial...but I hope to soon. The area is peaceful and solitary....that which is a pleasure to come by here. I feel overwhelmed by the noise and amounts of people here and find it unsettling. Perhaps that has brought into light my being drawn to church and of all things, graveyards. Peace, silence. That which I am used to. That which I miss. Inside of the church is an Anglo carving above the doorway. It is over 800 years old.

The interior simple, understated, calming. We had the pleasure of getting the grand tour by 2 elderly gents that knew all there was to know about the church. Whether we wanted to know or not....bless them. We were all too happy to listen and learn.

Some of the greatest escapes are so close to home. Perhaps a home so close to home. At least, where i feel at home.