Haynes Cemetery

In spite of what the sign above suggests, this is Haynes Cemetery, not Aynes Cemetery.

The photographer was more intrigued by the swirly design above the letters than the letters themselves, although they too have some degree of character and charm, as far as letters go.

Haynes Cemetery sits across from Mathews Chapel in the Blakes vicinity.

During my research at the Gazette Journal's library, I came across a folder that referenced a fairground and a one-room schoolhouse in the Blakes area.  I could have sworn I read that the schoolhouse was the little white house at the end of the road that divides this cemetery and the church.

But please do not quote me on that or anything, because the precious little amount of focus mustered from the recesses of my addled brain is tending to things like swirls and butterflies and blue skies rather than facts, figures, letters and details.

And below, even when trying to include the letters, they rebel against me.  It still looks like Aynes.

Cemeteries have always fascinated me.  I love to wander around and soak everything in: the names, the dates, the shapes of the headstones.  The flowers or other offerings left by the living.  The snippets of information attempting to capture a person's essence in one or two brief lines.  

I wonder who the person was, what they looked like, who their friends were, what they liked doing and what their special talent or gift was. Did they accomplish their dreams?  Were they happy or sad?  Did they have a deep, dark secret? Did they have any regrets? I linger over the graves of infants and children. I marvel at those who lived long lives and long to know their secret.

My sisters and I played in Smithers Cemetery growing up on Queens Creek.  Rather than viewing it as some somber, morbid place, we just looked at it as another adventure. A change of scenery, something different. Something mysterious.

And I suppose that's the best way to look at anything related to change--or the end of life.  It's just another adventure.

Anyway, my point is not that I'm looking forward to death as some sort of adventure, because I'm really not anywhere close to being done with the adventure that is my life.  My bucket overfloweth with lists of things I still want to do.

Rather, my point is I've already forgotten what my point is cemeteries can be works of art and places of enjoyment when viewed through the right lens.  

Just don't point that lens directly into the sun, as I did in this shot of "old Kingston" (aka Christ Church) below:

And here's a shot of one of the Confederate graves there:

This photo is similar to some I took at Pear Tree Cemetery, another of my favorite places.  Click here  and also here  to see those photos.

Do you have a favorite cemetery?