Monday, October 4, 2010

The Graveyard

Nestled in the middle of our woods there was an old graveyard. No one had been buried there in the past fifty years but it was still well taken care of. New flowers were placed at each grave every year. Beautiful ferns grew along the perimeter of the graveyard and a lush moss covered much of the ground along the one side. During spring and early summer violets grew profusely.

As children it was one of our favorite places to play on Sunday afternoons when there was nothing else planned to do as a family. We knew each of the tombstone inscriptions by heart. Wandering through the graveyard I often wondered what the people buried there had experienced in their life. Often when we had visitors with children we would go play in the graveyard for a while. Most of the time that was fine but one time we took a family of children that climbed all the tombstones and jumped as far as they could. There was one especially large headstone with a cross on top. John, David and I watched in dismay as they climbed on top of it and jumped off. After quite a few jumps as the one boy was climbing up again the cross broke off. We knew we had to get them away before they do more damage and convinced them to come help us float homemade boats on the creek.

After they left we had to tell Mom and Daddy that a tombstone had been broken. They weren't very happy with us and said that from now on we weren't allowed to take visiting children to play in the graveyard.

As I grew older I loved going there to spend time alone to simply think and dream. Other times I would take good book along to read. Sunday afternoons my brothers and I would often spend time there talking and reading and every once in a while we would once again play a game that we used to when we were little children.

It is still one of my favorite spots from my childhood and I look forward to visiting it soon for the first time in years.


  1. I bet your heart stopped when the cross broke. Everytime we go to Arkansas we go to the cemetery where my mom and dad are. And I have to watch my hubby cause he just walks across the graves. So different being raised in the city than when you are raised in the country. Cemeteries are different. There is so much history in a cemetery especially an older one. We go to cemeteries alot looking up info for people on . Very interesting sight if you have never been there.
    until next time... nel

  2. That sounds like such a pretty place. Wish I could sit there for an afternoon.

  3. I enjoy your memories and posts so much! I think grave yards are beautiful and peaceful, though since I've become a mother they make me feel a little uneasy. I don't always post but I read every update :)


  4. I've always loved spending time in graveyards, too. I enjoy walking in them...

  5. I love wandering through old graveyards and the rich history buried with each person.

  6. How wonderful that you are going to visit a favorite childhood getaway...blessings on your week...

  7. I can't wait to see pictures! I'm doing a post soon of a nearby graveyard here that's nestled in the woods. They're so full of history, and yes, this one had a few problems of its own. Love this story! ♥

  8. best regards,

  9. Graveyards can be interesting.

  10. Growning up we lived just down a hill from the graveyard. My brothers and I had to cut through the graveyard to go to a from school each day. It became a playground for us as well. Things like hide and go seek, or just plain hiding behind a large stone and waiting for your brother to come past you.... so you could jump up and freighten him 8-)

    We had a log building, at the age of seven, I thought that was Abe Lincoln's resting place...

    Like you, I often wondered about the people that were laid to rest in these spots...

    Thanks for sharing your story, I can so easily relate to this.


  11. I also love old graveyards for some reason. would love to see this one someday. It sounds lovely.

  12. My husband and I enjoy walking through grave yards, looking at the inscriptions and figuring out how old the people were. We had our granddaughter with us one time - she was four or five - and came upon the grave of a llittle girl who had died when she was the same age as Amanda. I took her picture, standing beside it, and she put it on her dresser - "To remind me that when the doctor gives me needles, it's so I won't die, too".

    I often wonder how parents coped with the staggering childhood mortality rates.


Thank you so much for taking time to comment. I love hearing your thoughts.