a church, a cemetery and a little blue shed.
We had such a lovely long weekend over Memorial Day, being outside, having picnics and sleeping in. I tell you, a little sleep and a little sunshine go a long way to making me a happy pleasant person! I need to remember that...
One of my favorite things was visiting the tiny Beaverdam Cemetery set on top of a small hill, overlooking a narrow green valley with a beautiful old church. I have always loved visiting this little place--I remember the car being filled with jars and jars of pretty purple lilacs and going on picnics with a little KFC. While we would arrange the flowers around the graves, I would listen to the stories of my grandmas parents Henry Oakley and Eva Vilate and the little baby Henry that was stillborn (the only boy out of seven.)
It may be a little odd, but I love walking around old cemeteries, looking at the names and dates, figuring out how many years they lived; feeling that sense of history, and ironically that sense of life~all the life lived between those two dates, however long or short. And even though I've been here many times, I never knew until this weekend that the land this little cemetery and that beautiful old church are on, once belonged to my great great grandfather, and that he donated it for the cemetery and church to be placed on.
I love imagining my great great grandmother slipping away from her busy household, climbing this hill, maybe picking a few wildflowers along the way and enjoying a few quiet moments away from all of her duties.
And I was so happy that I brought my camera along because their was this little outbuilding painted the most perfect shade of blue with lots of white peeling paint on the wood door. It was the perfect backdrop for a few summer pictures of their posterity... (and I can just hear great-grandmas everywhere, saying "Those boys need a good haircut. And the girls could use a nice permanent.")
One of my favorite things was visiting the tiny Beaverdam Cemetery set on top of a small hill, overlooking a narrow green valley with a beautiful old church. I have always loved visiting this little place--I remember the car being filled with jars and jars of pretty purple lilacs and going on picnics with a little KFC. While we would arrange the flowers around the graves, I would listen to the stories of my grandmas parents Henry Oakley and Eva Vilate and the little baby Henry that was stillborn (the only boy out of seven.)
It may be a little odd, but I love walking around old cemeteries, looking at the names and dates, figuring out how many years they lived; feeling that sense of history, and ironically that sense of life~all the life lived between those two dates, however long or short. And even though I've been here many times, I never knew until this weekend that the land this little cemetery and that beautiful old church are on, once belonged to my great great grandfather, and that he donated it for the cemetery and church to be placed on.
I love imagining my great great grandmother slipping away from her busy household, climbing this hill, maybe picking a few wildflowers along the way and enjoying a few quiet moments away from all of her duties.
And I was so happy that I brought my camera along because their was this little outbuilding painted the most perfect shade of blue with lots of white peeling paint on the wood door. It was the perfect backdrop for a few summer pictures of their posterity... (and I can just hear great-grandmas everywhere, saying "Those boys need a good haircut. And the girls could use a nice permanent.")
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