The Graveyard

In true unschooling style, we are seizing the opportunities that happen to bristle around us at any given time.

We live close to a Graveyard.

I've been thinking about this trip for a while, trying to anticipate questions, and mentally preparing answers to them. The wee ones are three and four, so I didn't want to freak them out with awkward, blurted answers. On the other hand, I don't have comforting religious fairy tales to offer them, so I tried to work my own understanding into an age-appropriate Tale of the Circle of Life.

A thoughtful talk was prepared, involving our return to Mother Earth, to the biosphere - our bodies transforming back into energy, into soil, into the grass, trees and sky... I was thinking about using The Boom Tree as an illustration...


Turns out, I was over-zealous in my preparation. They ran from stone to stone, Scooby spelling out the names, Baby Man running his fingers over the carved letters. At the graves of children they looked at the toys left by grieving mothers.



There was a sign reminding us we will all walk this path one day. Or...not walk it....


There's always one.


Lots of Scottish folks here.


We introduced ourselves to the twinkly, chatty, BMW motorcycle riding, sailboat owning Graveyard Keeper Guy. He showed us these stones on top of one of the gravestones and said each stone indicates a visitor, which we thought was beautiful. He also told us his work in the Graveyard keeps him very aware of his mortality and has caused him to change his life in many ways. We were sorry when he hopped on his motorcycle and drove dangerously off, waving.



The gravestones that bother me, are the ones for the Living. Those stones where some much-too-organized person has pre-prepared their marker, carved on their Date of Birth and left a little blank spot for their Date of Death.

I think this conveys a truly shocking lack of optimism...


This, at least, was a bit more positive!


Found a "pauper's grave", an old man in his eighties. There was an honest simplicity to this grave that made it much more touching than the giant glossy granite stones. I hoped this man didn't die alone and forgotten.

We talked about rituals, and memories. We talked about why people leave things on the graves, about the much older graves hidden in the forest behind the main graveyard, and about the pioneers whose bones lie here.


And I counted my blessings and reminded myself not to take our time together for granted.

HW