From Cairn to Cairn
 
I have an unshakable love of cemeteries, but there are few as beautiful as Oak Grove. She's sandwiched just barely, precariously between the buzzing Highway 1 to the south and marshland to the north, plots cut and terraced into what little land remains. They'd never do it this way now, modern graveyards are mostly planted in treeless fields, devoid of heart but easy to maintain. There is nothing simple or predicable about these centuries of barely contained coffins, withholding erosion in a mass of hasty masonry, moss-slick steps from cairn to cairn, and root systems under the surface. Maybe a stone will be smashed by falling branches, perhaps fake flowers will be disturbed and blown away with the autumn's lost leaves. I have a deep abiding passion for the desperation of this place, and she insists on calling me back.

October 6, 2017
Kentville, Nova Scotia