Blaenavon cemetery and its hinterland

 

It was about this time last year, during the first Covid-19 lockdown that I spent some time pottering around Blaenavon cemetery. This is a working cemetery with hundreds of burials, some very aged and interesting, some bland. There is a more traditional churchyard type section with an eclectic mix of headstone features contrasting with the uniformity of active modern day remembrance features equi-spaced to some government standardisation no doubt. But between this sea of the late, nature thrives where the demands of horticultural activities are less clinical. Patches of semi-improved grassland, mature trees and shrubs on the margins that blend seamlessly into the landscape beyond.

I hadn't intended to visit the cemetery, it was the upland beyond that was the calling for this excursion. The lower slope of Mynydd Varteg towards Forgeside was the main objective. Making the steep climb following the access road to a now disused mine, a marshy field with water holding due to the on going showers supported patches of round-leaved water crowsfoot. A male reed bunting showed briefly in some nearby willow scrub. A bund of civil engineering proportions now shrouds all signs of its former industrial activity, an amphitheatre with some remaining bits and pieces of heavy industry clutter. I turned over an oil can, some tin sheeting on the edge of an ephemeral pond and some shards of wood in the hope of a hidden great crested newt, but nothing.

Leaving the mine I made my way across the heather clad coal spoil, rewilding naturally by stealth. A few meadow pipit and skylark were braving the wintery showers. Between the compacted spoil with its dwarf shrub heath plant community there were patches of bog and mire complete with abundant sphagnum capillifolium and some flowering hare's tail cotton grass, now scarred by the actions of bikers. Passing a stand of gorse topiaried by grazing animals and now sodden by the blustery showers I sought the relative shelter of the cemetery.

Through the gate a great spotted woodpecker called and the song of chiffchaff, blackcap and willow warbler could be heard. The grassland between the memorials was awash with flowering primrose. Most of these primulas were the native type with others naturalised cultivars. The graves themselves become the focal point of my attention. Taking time to the read the inscriptions promoted a sense of sadness when weathered headstones commemorated the passing of children. One was aged 5 years 11 months the same age as one of the grandchildren!. Nonetheless for a naturalist these graves some with ornate wrought iron surrounds many shaped by oblong granite, are akin to raised planting beds. Here there are many introduced plants along with colonised native species some spilling over their formally constructed restraints in the the adjoining grassland. A sheep with a lamb grazed contently between the checkered pattern of burials. On the corner of a footpath one of the rarely species of lady's mantle was in flower.

The rain became heavier so I left in search a cup of tea and some 'grub', as they say in these parts. I made a note in my diary to return to burial area as its vastness and variety demands more of my attention.