Friday, September 10, 2010
I actually said that to a client who called while I was exploring the graveyard surrounding Kinsgston Chapel in Mathews, Virginia. I wasn’t trying to be funny, I just said it, with no irony in mind at all.
My Dad got me started on loving graveyards. I don’t see them as being macabre, sad, or scary. Graveyards are tangible history we can examine for ourselves outside of a book.
Grace’s graveyard was completely different from that hidden spot surrounded by hustle, bustle, traffic, and office workers hurrying to lunch or back to their offices. Here, there was utter peace, simply the sounds of the wind soughing in the old growth trees, the faint sound of the water, birds twittering, and the occasional plop of a falling pecan. It was a final resting place in every sense of the term.
Trees soared over my head, leaves fluttered bright green, the blue sky was the background and the sun filtered through it all.
When peace like a river attendeth my way
When sorrows like sea billows roll
It is well, it is well with my soul.
Posted by JPG at 9:27 AM