Beside the lichen-encrusted churchyard wall, a robin sings from the dark heart of a yew, its clear notes rising above the gruff calls of nesting rooks. Along the path, a bank of buttery primroses glows beside the bright stars of lesser celandine, offering early forage to the first pollen-dusted solitary bee. Across the gravestones, small points of colour are beginning to appear. St Mary’s churchyard stirs in readiness for the annual Bainton primrose festival, when villagers gather on Palm Sunday to celebrate this quiet herald of spring. Thrum-eyed primroses. Photograph: Sarah Lambert The primrose has long symbolised renewal. In earlier
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