Here’s a new idea for you. What have you been doing for exercise this winter—this socially distanced, pandemic winter, when half of what we need, really, is to just get out of the house?
Well, we’ve been taking walks out at Riverview Cemetery—one of Jefferson City’s big nondenominational cemeteries with rolling hills, lots of big, mature trees, and curvy, winding paved roads. It dates back to the 1910s.
We first started taking walks there in early December when we went to decorate my peoples’ graves—we realized how ideal it was as a walking location.
You want social distancing? There are very few people there—most folks don’t get out of their cars, and when they do, they stay close to whatever grave they’re visiting (decorating).
You want safety and solitude? Unlike walking on city streets, there’s no one brushing past you, and no traffic or noisy mufflers roaring by. You want fresh air? No stinky black exhaust fumes. Cemeteries are quiet places.
And we’re not superstitious. Neither of us is squeamish about being at the cemetery—we’re always intrigued and interested, reading the stones, noting the fresh graves (“ooh, do you think they died of COVID?”), straightening up dislodged decorations, etc. Indeed, we think of cemeteries as nice places. A place were mortality and eternity walk together in harmony.
Once, we came upon about a dozen deer walking around among the tombstones. When they noticed us, they all ran into the nearby woods. I’m pretty sure that was on Christmas Day. Yeah, indeed. We went walking there after Christmas dinner.
And the lichens! Championship flavoparmelias, bright orange xanthorias, sinewy ramalinas, ruffly parmotremas, etc., etc., etc., on the stones and the trees. Gorgeous, amazing organisms that make you glad to be stationed here on planet Earth for a time.
I guess cemetery trees get just the right amount of open sunshine, combined with lower air pollution and little mechanical disturbance, to grow nice, big perfect circles of lichens.
Sue and I probably look like weirdos out there, peering so closely at the trees and taking pictures. So far, no one has complained about us or asked us to leave.
Taking walks in cemeteries? We can recommend it!
Please enjoy some of the pictures I’ve taken on our walks.
Even as a little girl, I have always loved graveyards. When I had my horse, I often rode through the three cemeteries that are within two miles of my house. If you copy and paste the link I'm leaving, you can see me riding through the Wellington Cemetery with Loudon Wainwright III singing in the background.
ReplyDeletehttps://youtu.be/MRdQzHKAkS8
Wow, Donna, that's a nifty video. How'd you do that? I'm starting to realize the only way to get videos on my blog is to upload 'em to YouTube first, then embed them in the blog. Yeesh: technology. I'd rather look at lichens!
ReplyDeleteAlso, that's a great song--perfect for those of us who like to look around at cemeteries. One of the reasons we like to go to church suppers out in the country is so that we can wander around in the graveyards afterward.
A few years ago, OzarksWatch magazine, published by Missouri State University's Ozarks Studies Institute, did an issue that focused on "End-of-Life Customs in the Ozarks," and I found it interesting reading. You can access the issue here:
https://digitalcollections.missouristate.edu/digital/collection/p17307coll1/id/3294/rec/56
Thank you once again, Donna, for your comment. I hope you're well and enjoying this new year.
--Julie
I never saw such prolific lichens! Impressive indeed!
ReplyDeleteYes, cemerptaries are peaceful places to meditate and retrospect. It helps reconnect with the last, experiencing some kind of a time warp!
Thank you, Anon, for your comment. There's a lovely quotation by John Ruskin that I had meant to include in this post. He was pondering the ability of lichens and mosses to colonize newly exposed cliff faces and rocks with life, and like any other self-respecting Brit, he admired the artistic, softening effect they have on the old tombstones in a churchyard: "Meek creatures! the first mercy of the earth, veiling with hushed softness its dintless rocks; creatures full of pity, covering with strange and tender honor the scarred disgrace of ruin--laying quiet finger on the trembling stones, to teach them rest. . . . And as the earth's first mercy, so they are its last gift to us: When all other service is vain . . . the soft mosses and gray lichen take up their watch by the headstone. . . . These do service for ever."
ReplyDelete