I love to take my time visiting and photographing old graveyards. The residents usually don’t mind. In those long forgotten cemeteries, like this one, nature is working at reclaiming what was hers, as it should be, I think. The markers and statuary have lost their luster and are lichen covered. Engravings are worn and difficult to read. Every tombstone is a brief history of someone who was here before us, someone whose story I can only try to imagine. Lives were usually short and surely more difficult than our own. This graveyard is set amongst giant live oak trees dripping with Spanish moss. Eerily quiet on a stifling summer’s afternoon, I wander around listening to the stories of the locals.
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