The church was nestled among aging trees at the quiet end of the lane.
Located on the outskirts of the village, it sat unattended and forgotten. He imagined there had been a time when its location, somehow separate from the bustle of comings and goings, would have been a welcome respite and sanctuary for those who had gone there to pray and give thanks. He stood eyeing the scene. There was a comforting beauty in what he was seeing. Then, he realised he’d been looking at the building for a long time, hardly moving. He loved the trees and the gravelly surface of the paths, but there was something… he stood back a little. Yes. He had it! He wasn’t happy about the roof tiles, they needed more moss.
With a smile, he added small blobs of blue and yellow to his palette, and with his brush he began mixing.