by Gemma L. Reece

Created on: July 25, 2011   Last Updated: December 16, 2011

I love spending time in graveyards, and that may seem strange, but they are interesting places to be. As a nature lover I find they are fantastic for observing wildlife, they are peaceful, gentle and are perfect oases for being alone when you just want to be still.

Being in a churchyard promotes contemplation, much like a library they are places of respect but also comfort, one can simply sit and listen to the breeze in the trees, watch birds, rabbits and squirrels going about their daily business, see bees and butterflies making use of the flowers left behind and reflect on life and the meaning of it all. As a writer I find them wonderful places to get some head space, nobody will bother you there, even if there are other people tending graves, but most of the time, in smaller graveyards, there is no one else around especially on a week day.

Graveyards are places to centre yourself, if it is a place where you have a loved one at rest then there is an obvious link and a deeper sense of belonging is felt, closeness to the person perhaps or somewhere where memories are more readily available to the mind. If it is a graveyard in a strange place then simply walking the paths and reading the headstones is a fascinating past time, the history, possible stories and lives that are entwined helps your imagination run wild. In fact if I find myself in an unfamiliar place, a graveyard is a place I can retreat to, wherever it is, they are all there for the same reason, and they offer the same things, a kind of familiar sanctuary in the midst of a bustling city.

At any time of year I enjoy tending the graves of my loved ones. It gives me time to think of them but also to ponder anything else that may be going on in my life. While I am clipping or arranging flowers my mind can wander and I will often solve a dilemma or problem just by being there. In the heat of summer it is nice to sit in the shade of a tree, in the winter the graveyard looks all the more mysterious covered in snow or in the midst of a windy storm. Some days there is no sound at all, on others it seems bustling – but only by animals, insects and the breeze.

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