I feel a hush in my soul when I walk through graveyards, especially ones established far in the past. I recently visited the Old German Meeting House in Waldoboro, Maine, built in 1772. One of the oldest churches in the state, it was listed on the National Register of Historic Places in 1970. "The meeting house is quiet - peaceful with a strength and dignity derived from those who hewed its beams from the neighboring forests." Source: theoldgermanmeetinghouse.com
When I climbed the long, winding hill behind the church into the cemetery, I saw resting places of many kinds – from traditional upright headstones to headstones laid flat on the ground to lichen-covered wrought iron fences with finials surrounding groups of graves. I felt the presence of the many families who prayed here over the generations and who are now laid to rest for eternity.
I was there in the fall, when the leaves were already orange. But I wanted to create an image that felt the way I felt there – as though the voices were murmuring all around me. About their lives. About their loves. About their histories. While many of the graves are in straight rows, this image is the one that struck me most – where you can see the tilting of time that bespeaks the age of the cemetery.