I have always enjoyed wandering around cemeteries, the older the better. Perhaps it’s because I was a history major at university. And while some find cemeteries morbid or sad or depressing, I find them peaceful and uplifting. They provide me an important reminder about the fragile and finite nature of human life, and the many, many people who have lived and died before me. They make my day-to-day troubles shrink in importance. Perspective.
So, I often visit cemeteries when I travel (e.g. my earlier posts of New Orleans – here and here). It was no different in London last October. I wanted to get to two or three of the city’s “Magnificent Seven” Victorian cites. I made it to just one – Brompton Cemetery – and it was worth the walk.
Brompton has beautifully trimmed pathways (attractively strewn with colourful autumn leaves) that divide the cemetery space. Some grave markers are well manicured, but they are beside entire sections so overgrown with tall grass and vines, they’re partially (or totally) obscured. I enjoy the variety of grave stones, admiring the design details, reading the inscriptions.
Love all those angels:
Brompton buildings are lovely too, and provided me some much-needed shade on a bright sunny day.
But I don’t just visit cemeteries abroad; I also make a point of revisiting family grave sites whenever I’m in Alberta. On a trip there last year, I popped in at the Coronation Town Cemetery and went with my aunts and uncles to visit the Cadogen Lutheran Cemetery (pictured below).
I love the big skies and gently rolling farmland. Quite, peaceful and pretty. This piece of land was the corner of my Norwegian great-great grandparents original farm, donated for the purpose of a community cemetery.