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Great-grandmother’s final rest
When my grandparents left Branson, during the Depression, for the hoped-for greener pastures in Texas, they left behind a son who’d died from diptheria when he was only four years old. Later on, my great-grandmother joined him in this desolate little cemetery.
Branson, Colorado
photographed 9.5.2016
Behind the Marker
Not only do I like to look behind things, I get a strange satisfaction in seeing the details of assembly. In this case, I was drawn to those twisted wires, in different colors, with those strange leggy ends poking in different directions.
in the cemetery
Lajitas, Texas
photographed 1.20.2013
Eventually, it all starts to look the same
As it turned out, the Albuquerque Museum of Art and History had an exhibit on this cemetery, so naturally our first stop after the museum was…well, you know.
The cemetery’s split down the middle; the newer side held little interest as it was green and manicured and tidy. It was this side, the older side, that I liked. Right away I saw how the old tree trunk, the concrete curbs, the markers, even the dry ground were all taking on the same color and texture. Dirt to dirt, I guess.
Fairview Memorial Cemetery
Albuquerque, New Mexico
photographed 10.4.2016
Ever On
And, in Albuquerque, a downcast Jesus stands guard over his dry and weedy cemetery.
Fairview Cemetery
Albuquerque, New Mexico
photographed 10.4.2016
Tombstones may be on the move
Is it just me? (Probably)
Those short, bright tombstones give the appearance of congregating, ready to move along.
At any rate, I left the cemetery before they did.
Columbia Cemetery
Boulder, Colorado
photographed 9.25.2015
One Day | One Image 