Its that Cemetery Time of Year…

I have a love hate relationship with the autumn portion of the year. I hate that all my gardens are descending into the winter; the plants I have delighted in over the summer will soon be droopy frozen mush and dried out sticks. All the artist’s yard ornaments come in and get stowed for the winter, pipes get wrapped and the winter coats appear. The winter birds are coming back and its time to stock up on soot and seed for my feathered friends.

I love it too. The leaves are turning bright colors and the air has a snap to it. Indoor pursuits are suddenly delightful and so are lap rugs. This is the cemetery time of year.

My favorite cemetery is right here at home

Little Lambs can be found on children's headstones from long ago

Confession: I love cemeteries and cemetery angels. I don’t think they are creepy or melancholy. Sad sometimes, like when I am wandering among the graves and run into a swath of old fashioned lamb-on-top headstones and know those were all children who died long ago. If I read the dates I can extrapolate sometimes that there must have been a virulent illness that swept through the small city taking the oldest and the weakest both.

Cemetery Angel of Olympia

Still, the cemetery not too far from my house is a beautiful and peaceful place. I love to just wander around reading headstones and watching the squirrels and crows going about their squirrel and crow business.

The fall seems so mellow and quiet under the trees

The day of our friend John’s memorial service a few weeks ago, I had a small camera with me me. It was a beautiful sunny day for wandering and wondering. I wonder what it was like to live with some of these names?

And is this the real Colonel Mustard? Resting quietly with Flora Mary Mustard right here in Olympia.

Colonel Mustard and Mrs Mustard?

Make up your own caption for Waddle....

My Uncle Cecil and Aunt Beatrice  are buried here. My father’s uncle and aunt. Dad used to talk about his crazy logger relatives in the northwest. It was amazing to find out we landed up in the same town over 50 years later. Cecil was long gone before I came here, dying in the 60s, but I love that I have family roots.

And then there are the angels,

All over France and the USA, I take pictures of cemetery angels. For some reason I just love them,their eternal gentleness speaks to me. Its almost Hallowe’en. All hallows eve, I may just get my camera and make another visit, its that cemetery time of year you know.


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