When seated in the country cemetery I described in an April post, small strange clouds floated above, like spirits visiting from another realm.
A crazy concept you say? Perhaps, but it was just one of those moments–like people say about a hilarious experience that falls flat with only mere words to describe it – you simply “had to be there” to believe it.
Each season holds its special experiences. Spring and fall seem the most spiritual to me.
October is another month when I begin to feel a closer presence of those who have passed on. But in a positive way. Nothing to do with skeletons and scary seances. The feeling comes to me as I see trees at dusk silhouetted in the sunset, feel the heartbeat of the earth, sense the imprint of all who have walked upon it.
Cemeteries are lovely places to spend perfect spring days. I have couple of favorites I frequent often, though time and weather hadn’t combined to make visits viable so far this rainy spring.
I usually breeze past the one where I discovered this small and quite old stone Monday morning, surrounded by new spring dandelions. I’m so glad I took the time to stop and enjoy the sunshine and enchanting feel of spring.
I’ll be featuring more of the photos I snapped in upcoming posts.
After a tour of the site, and a bit of entertainment by the birds lurking in the bushes growing amid the stones and the ones perching in the trees standing tall on the hillside above, I settled on a bench placed beside the stone of a man who lost his life at age 44, much missed by his father.
The stone held a shrine to the man, the most touching part being the verse composed by a grieving but grateful dad, a tribute to the son who gracefully accepted his fate and requested to be buried at this peaceful site.
The verse invites others to rest upon the bench. I was delighted to do so. In gratitude I offered respect to the memory of the man buried there, sympathy to his father.
Small white clouds floated overhead, seeming like spirits hovering in the bright blue sky. One of them appeared to glow in an odd sort of way. It settled for a time above the tree that most closely overlooked the referenced gravesite. Perhaps that thought seems a bit far-fetched, but it was just that sort of whimsical morning. In spring all manner of miracles seem possible.
Golden dandelion polka dots decorated Mother Earth’s bright green dress. The air was scented by early spring’s chlorophyll rich perfume.
For a few moments I was able to give my mind a break from the threat of the current pandemic, its effect on our collective health and economy. Part of building a strong immune system for protection against the virus depends upon giving ourselves frequent breaks from stress. During these days it’s even more important to make it a point to seek out special moments like my cemetery visit.
Nature is a very effective healer. Find an uncrowded site not far from your home and make it a point to seep in the energy of springtime. Take reasonable precautions like wearing masks and maybe gloves in case you encounter other persons or their personal items.
The threat of disease may be worrisome for a while, but one special perk is that it can make us more appreciative of our home’s simple pleasures and the wonder of nature.
Perhaps some may question the tastefulness of Halloween decorations in the cemetery, but I had to smile when I spotted this pumpkin and his ghostly friend.
I do love to stroll our local cemetery. It’s a friendly, welcoming place, where people walk dogs and enjoy the outdoors.
I read the names on tombstones, sometimes spotting one I’ve never noticed, though I’ve walked that way many times before; visit graves of my ancestors and deceased friends, sit upon stone benches and remember . . . and plan for the future. . .
I’m so thankful for the apparent gesture by the local cemetery association. On a Memorial Day visit to my favorite graveyard, as they used to be called, I discovered an assortment of watering cans suspended from the pumps that dot the grounds.
My great aunt began the tradition of planting flowers in the cemetery. I recall she once backed her car over a gravestone when she was nearing ninety and still driving. She hoped we would continue her tradition when she became unable to make her weekly visit to our ancestors.
My mother and I used to stop at two cemeteries each week when I drove her on errands on my day off. We had to take our own watering vessels back then. I since planted peonies and lilies so I don’t have to water so much, but some season when I have more time, I will return to planting a few annuals for all summer color. I hope the cans are still there then.
In these days when simple niceties are so neglected, I consider the convenience provided by these cans a very generous gesture.