Not far from where I grew up in the forests of cedar and alder is a beautiful clearing, where in the middle a few tall twisty strange trees from another world reside. Its a place of history, a place of memories, fantasies, love, loss, change, growth, as well as neglect and decay.
When I was young my mother, younger brother and I would walk through this hidden garden. I would wonder about those forgotten ones who were left to the brambles and thimbleberry brush that sprung up around the dissolving crosses retaken to the earth by moss and decay. Their names becoming part of the sword-fern undergrowth. Here the thimble-berries and black-caps grew full and sweet, and I swear old spirits brushed by us whispering their tales and dreams. I felt enchantment and wonder of such a place. As though a piece of heaven fell and left an impression. It is in this otherworldly place where my parents ashes and many other childhood neighbours reside.
Some years ago Derek was buried there, he was the first to be interred after many years of the cemeteries dis-use and neglect. After Derek's death I would wander up the road and recede into the dark musty forests embrace and talk with Derek while sunstars danced across dust particles through the clearing.
Gerald considerately washed mom and dads gravestones for me while I wandered, chatted and photographed.
This bear is one of the guardians at the head of my parents gravestones, the other is an eagle perched a few feet away on a stump. My mother loved wind chime music so my children and I placed the fairy chime for her after her interment.
This grove of enchantment is lovingly filled with variety that is not often found anymore.
