Sunday, July 15, 2012


At the very end of my street there's an old cemetery, and I often walk there in the early morning when the summer sun casts slanted light across the stones.

It's lovely, and I take my time. There's no rush, no hurry (everything here is at rest, after all), and there is so much to look at.

 Funerary art isn't as simple as it seems: there's great symbolism in each and every carving. The lamb here, for instance, implies a child's tomb; the ship, as you can guess, is for a mariner...

...and here, in Maine, we have lots of those.

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