13 Pilgrimage to St Nonna

Under the yew trees

The April sunshine is unseasonably warm and by the time I reach the churchyard of St Nonna’s, Altarnun after passing through my first Tre of the day (Treween) I’m glad of the cool shadow under the yew trees. There are four tall, dark yew trees.

Some believe their presence in the graveyards of Britain served to purify the dead after the plague had ravaged the community, I wonder if the plague tainted Altarnun? A question for another day.

A more pragmatic explanation is that yew trees discouraged people from grazing their livestock on the green duvets of the dead, although I love the highly scientific view that as they are the trees grown in hell (who knew trees could thrive in hell) they are omens of doom.

Whatever the story, their shade encourages me to pause and tune in to the churchyard for a moment.

I can hear the raucous cawing of the rooks nesting high in the surrounding trees. On reflection, I realise I’m not too confident in my corvids, maybe they were crows or ravens - do they do the tree top colony thing too? More questions for another day.

There’s a homely smell of woodsmoke drifting across from somewhere. To the south of the churchyard I can hear Penpoint Water babbling restlessly under the twin bridges at the village centre, on its way southeast to join the River Inny so they can travel together to the Tamar.

Pausing here the world feels pretty timeless, other than a chap fitting a Sky dish and an advert across the lane advertising free Wi-Fi at the campsite, it’s not too difficult to imagine my ancestors appearing here for the milestone moments in their lives.

Following my ancestors through the gate into St Nonna’s churchyard at Altarnun

The records suggest my best hat would have seen a lot of action should I have been wandering here in the 1800s.

On the 8th March 1838 my 3x great grandparents, William Harper and Mary Ann Hambly walked in to this churchyard, leaving a little later as man and wife. William signed the register, her presence is recorded with just a mark.

Mary Ann’s parents, James Hambly Herring and Mary Comer married here in March 1811, her son Thomas married Ann Northcott in July 1863 under St Nonna’s watchful eye. My great granduncle Joseph Walters wed his wonderfully named beau Blanche Clymo here on 3^rd August 1903.

The parish registers database records Mary Ann’s burial here in 1887, by which time she was a Barriball.

I’m keen to complete my planned circuit of William and Mary Ann’s residences in the mid-1800s so I don’t linger to search the gravestones. The records suggest I would find plenty of common DNA in the soil here, but today I decide sitting with the dead is for another visit and walk on.