21
Mar
10

Rainy day at Crosby Lake Cemetery

This is the cemetery most local to me. Just a couple of miles down the road, I often take the camera and the dog and wander among the old stones.

In the old section, live oaks canopy the entire area.

Little things catch my eye, like the wet rusty flower on this gate. Most of the rest of the fence has fallen, but the gate still continues to fulfill its duty.

Sad and sweet, the grave of twin boys that died on the day they were born.

28
Feb
10

Bonaventure Cemetery

Pretty much the Holy Grail of cemeteries to visit and take photographs at in the Southeast. For our sixth wedding anniversary, DH and I visited Savannah. We saw my cousin, who graciously escorted us to this beautiful cemetery. Just a few images to whet your appetite.

The detail on the sculptures is amazing. The expressions are so real.

Some are simply beautiful.

18
Feb
09

St. Margaret’s Episcopal Church, Green Cove Springs Florida

Yesterday I stopped by this tiny chapel in the woods near the St. Johns River.  It was made somewhat famous by Eugenia Price’s novel, Margaret’s Story.I just happened to meet up with a nice gentleman who was coming over to check the building and he invited me inside and told me a bit about the history.  The last time I was there, it was alone in the woods. Now they have a new larger church, but the old traditional rites are still held in the tiny chapel every Sunday morning at 8. I got some beautiful shots of the stained glass windows, something I’ve been dying to do for years.

The Hibernia home is depicted, as well as Bishop Weed's visit. Cardinal and blue jay make an appearance too, common birds in the area.

The Hibernia home is depicted, as well as Bishop Weed's visit. Cardinal and blue jay make an appearance too, common birds in the area.

The windows above the altar are dedicated to Margaret Fleming, for whom this chapel was built. She never got to see it finished; the first ceremony held here was her funeral in 1878, before construction was complete.

The windows above the altar are dedicated to Margaret Fleming, for whom this chapel was built. She never got to see it finished; the first ceremony held here was her funeral in 1878, before construction was complete.

Window dedicated to the memory of George and Mary Morris.

Window dedicated to the memory of George and Mary Morris.

 

To the memories of Jane R. and Robert L. Watson. The St Johns River is seen, cypress trees, complete with knees and fishing floats.

To the memories of Jane R. and Robert L. Watson. The St Johns River is seen, cypress trees, complete with knees and fishing floats.

15
Feb
09

Sapp and Dyal Cemeteries

Two more local cemeteries more interesting stones are captured.

p1010099

Lamb from a child's grave in the Sapp Cemetery near Raiford FL

 

Handmade stone from the Sapp Cemtery near Raiford FL

Handmade stone from the Sapp Cemtery near Raiford FL

 

Taken at the Dyal Cemetery near Starke, FL. I was drawn by the name. Who names their child Peculia?

Taken at the Dyal Cemetery near Starke, FL. I was drawn by the name. Who names their child Peculia?

14
Feb
09

Santa Fe Cemetery

I’m starting to explore the local cemeteries and taking pictures of anything that looks interesting. Here are some of the best shots from my Valentine’s Day ramble through the Santa Fe Cemetery in Hampton Florida.

p1010003

p1010021

p1000999

11
Feb
09

The Graveyard Rabbit

logo_with_attribution

Stumbling across some things online are just wonderful. Here I am, an admirer of cemeteries, old ones especially and come to find out there’s an association for people like me. They are dedicated to the preservation of and education coming from old cemeteries. Genealogist’s have a special love of graveyards; finding tangible proof of ones own ancestors is a gift that cannot be matched.

So, in honor of my new blog and my association with The Graveyard Rabbits, here is the poem that gave them their name.

 

The Graveyard Rabbit

by Frank Lebby Stanton

 

 

In the white moonlight, where the willow waves,  
He halfway gallops among the graves—  
A tiny ghost in the gloom and gleam,  
Content to dwell where the dead men dream,  
 
But wary still!        
For they plot him ill;  
For the graveyard rabbit hath a charm  
(May God defend us!) to shield from harm.  
 
Over the shimmering slabs he goes—  
Every grave in the dark he knows;        
But his nest is hidden from human eye  
Where headstones broken on old graves lie.  
 
Wary still!  
For they plot him ill;  
For the graveyard rabbit, though sceptics scoff,          
Charmeth the witch and the wizard off!  
 
The black man creeps, when the night is dim,  
Fearful, still, on the track of him;  
Or fleetly follows the way he runs,  
For he heals the hurts of the conjured ones.          
 
Wary still!  
For they plot him ill;  
The soul’s bewitched that would find release,—  
To the graveyard rabbit go for peace!  
 
He holds their secret—he brings a boon          
Where winds moan wild in the dark o’ the moon;  
And gold shall glitter and love smile sweet  
To whoever shall sever his furry feet!  
 
Wary still!  
For they plot him ill;        
For the graveyard rabbit hath a charm  
(May God defend us!) to shield from harm.



Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.