I love walking in the cemetery, it’s so peaceful, and as I passed this one in the back roads of Elba, I was drawn to it and had to make a u-turn and jump out to take a few photos.
I have a what some might term a morbid relationship with graveyards. When I was in undergrad taking a death & dying in America class, a few of our assignments did send us to investigate gravestones and epitaphs. I was pregnant with my first Monkey at the time and realized this was also the perfect place to look for unique baby names. (I know, I know)
Rest assured the crafter Monkey was not named from a gravestone, but it did give me an encompassing sense of peace wandering around the stones in the fall, taking note of the colors, shadows, shapes, and silence.
Some of the earliest stones I could read dated to 1848 and had some touching inscriptions.
It was a lovely diversion for me until I came across this. It just ruined the whole experience for me.