Churchyards as a pause, treated with respect
A churchyard is a quiet pause on a walk, and it is also a burial ground. Sit, look, and leave the place as you found it.
The church is often the oldest building in the village, and the yard around it is often the most peaceful patch of grass on the walk. Yews, old stones, a bench, a path that cuts a corner of the parish: walkers have used these places for as long as there have been walks. They are also burial grounds and, sometimes, a workplace for a volunteer with a mower. The pause is welcome. The manners are simple.
What you are entering
A churchyard is not a park with Gothic furniture. People are buried there, families still visit, and a service may be under way even if you did not hear a bell. If you hear a service, or see a gathering at a grave, choose another way through or wait. Your shortcut is less important than their hour.
The public path, if one crosses the yard, is there to be walked. Wandering off it among recent graves to find a better photograph is not part of the right of way. Older stones invite reading. They do not invite sitting on the headstone or rubbing the inscription to make it show up. Look, and leave the stone alone.
A good place to stop
Use the bench if there is one. A bench's job includes feet, food and the map, and a churchyard bench is often the best seat in the village. Eat tidily. Crumbs and wrappers are a poor thank-you to a place that has stayed open. Take the rubbish with you. There may not be a bin, and a grave is not a bin.
It is also a fine place to let a hurried morning settle. Slow walking comes more easily beside a yew than on a lane with a timetable. Ten quiet minutes will change the rest of the day.
Wildlife and the long grass
Many churchyards are small nature reserves by accident or on purpose. Unmown corners hold flowers and the insects that use them. A notebook for wild flowers fits here, with the rule that you pick nothing. Bats may use the church itself at dusk. Watch the sky from the lychgate, and leave the building unexplored. Bats at dusk includes that courtesy.
A dog goes on a lead, and the lead stays on. A dog investigating a grave is the fastest way to be unwelcome. Clean up without fail. If you would not let the dog do it in a friend's garden, do not let them do it here.
Looking at the building
You can usually walk the outside and admire the porch, the tower and the way the village sits under it. An open church is a generosity. Step inside quietly, leave a coin if there is a box for the roof, and do not treat the interior as a picnic or a changing room. If the door is locked, it is locked for a reason. The exterior is enough.
Photography of the architecture is one thing. Photography of people mourning is another. Put the camera down.
Leaving the pause behind
Shut the gate. A churchyard gate left open is an invitation to rabbits, dogs and a wander you did not intend. Check you have the map, the bottle and the wrapper. Then take the path you meant to take, which you can confirm from the seat before you stand up.
A village that keeps its churchyard kind is a village worth walking back to. Be one of the reasons it stays unlocked.
Frequently asked questions
Is it all right to eat a sandwich in a churchyard?
On a bench, quietly, with no litter left behind, yes in most places. If a sign asks you not to, or a funeral is in progress, eat later. The sandwich can wait.
Can I rub a brass or take a stone rubbing?
Only with permission. Rubbing can damage old stone and brass. A photograph does the remembering without the friction.
What if I need the toilet and the church is open?
Do not assume. Ask if someone is there, or use the pub or the public block. An open church is not a service station.