From the hilltop

From the hilltop

Looking down from atop the knoll, plain white markers, degraded by weather and time, spread out uniformly like a well-practiced parade regiment. From where I stand, the speckled fields stretch toward the horizon. Each generation, each year, each day, each hour the sward fills with more and more dead. No flowers are left by the grave [...]

So, it begins

So, it begins

The plain, wooden cross, skillfully constructed from weathered, white-washed fence slats, appeared overnight in St. Anthony Gardens at the neglected burial site of a nameless decedent. Great care had been given to crafting a traditional grave marker, one that was reverent and not pretentious as were so many of the monolithic tributes in the cemetery. [...]

A tree grows

A tree grows

When I pass, I’ve told my family that I want to be cremated. As much time as I spend with my camera in cemeteries, I also appreciate how much land they require. It’s imaginable that one day, we’ll run out of space for more cemeteries. Both of my parents have cremation directives in their wills. [...]