“Where shall we place our hope?” These words pop into my head as I watch a bumblebee dawdling around the pollinator garden of Magheralin parish church. The garden was created last year by parishioners, both as a place of reflection and to help local biodiversity. It’s already flourishing. Around the central arrangement of holly planted into the shape of a trinity circle, there are spikes of dogwood, scrawny willows dabbed with pinkish-grey catkins, and beds of daffodils. A robin warbles softly through the choral strains drifting from the imposing 19th-century church. Nesting rooks guffaw from the churchyard’s massive horse chestnuts. A coal tit wheezes.
Across the road is Magheralin’s old church, an ivy-softened ruin guarded by mossy headstones. Dating from the 14th century, this provides a sanctuary for wildlife found in old graveyards. In a few days, Easter will be celebrated there under a roof of open sky. That annual service seems to reach across to the pollinator garden, connecting the congregation’s heritage and future.
