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Yes, that Forks, Washington. The town that inspired Stephenie Meyer’s brooding location for her Twilight series. I was in the neighborhood, touring along the wild coastline and couldn’t resist stopping. There were plenty of Twilight fans in town, but I had the cemetery all to myself.
It’s small and plain, kind of like the town, but it had its charm. Thankfully, there wasn’t a werewolf or vampire reference in sight.
I loved the quirky, homemade memorials.
La Push, Washington is just down the road from Forks. I wanted to visit the tribal cemetery there, but it was closed to outsiders. I got to go to the beach though, one of the most incredible places I’ve ever been!
The locals told us that the author had never visited. She really missed out. The landscape was truly inspiring.
Do you ever accept the invitation to rest and ponder?
I think you can tell when the loved-ones were serious. Many state the implicit invitation in writing.
“We really mean it! Have a seat.”
With others, it’s the careful landscaping or spectacular view that makes me feel welcome.
Unless the bench is old and frail, or occupied, I take a seat.
Be respectful. Use common sense and good judgement, but try it sometime. You’ll feel a very visceral connection. More than simply reading the words on a stone or even enjoying the beauty of a sculpture. This is personal.
Let me know what your experience was like.
I took a trip through southern Missouri months ago.
I had a lovely day, enjoying the blood-pressure-lowering tranquility I usually experience in cemeteries.
But as I looked over these shots this morning, a decidedly creepy vibe came through.
I don’t try for spooky when I aim my camera. I just look for interesting angles, beautiful stones.
But look at this ominous shadow! I totally missed it while I was there.
Do you see the creep factor in this group of images too, or am I just in a mood?
My dad died back in March. Of course I miss him.
The prospect of getting back to my blog about how much I love graveyards gave me the worst case of writers’ block I’ve ever had. I couldn’t decide what to say, how much to say. For a while, I wondered if I could keep the blog going at all.
But after all these months I’m finally able to walk into a cemetery and feel that quiet, timeless comfort again.
My sisters and I haven’t marked his grave yet. I definitely have a new appreciation for the complexities of choosing tombstones.
The cemetery where he’s buried only allows stamped bronze markers, the kind mounted flush to the ground, but I’m determined to give taphophiles like me a better clue about how my dad lived his life than the typical phrase, “loving father and husband” provides. But how do you sum up a life in twenty words or less?
Here’s the epitaph I’ve come up with that seems to suit him best so far…
William Frederick Moore
May 9, 1932 – March 28, 2013
He loved his family, the great outdoors, and the two-step.
I love you, Dad.
Have you ever seen a ghost bike memorial?
I’d heard of them. I’d seen temporary memorials spray painted on the pavement at the site of bicyclists’ deaths.
This is a different kind of memorial than I usually photograph, but when I saw it I had to stop. I pulled onto the wide shoulder where the man and his granddaughter had ridden. It was a long, straight stretch of four-lane, country road. Hard to imagine what must have happened that morning to cause the accident.
Despite the obvious age of this memorial, the grief still felt raw here. Like crosses marking car accidents, I hope that ghost bikes serve to wake people up a bit. I know when I pass them I’ll sit up a little straighter behind the wheel, scan ahead a little farther. Share the road.
My favorite place in all of Cincinnati has to be Spring Grove Cemetery. I would challenge anyone to find a more beautiful place in the tri-state area.
It is overflowing with the most lovely flora and fauna, not to mention the statues and mausoleums…
I trekked across the river two weeks ago to try and capture some “winter bleak” photos with my new camera.