So long ago, I don't remember when
That's when they say I lost my only friend
Well they said she died easy of a broken heart disease
As I listened through the cemetery trees
That's when they say I lost my only friend
Well they said she died easy of a broken heart disease
As I listened through the cemetery trees
~ The Wallflowers
There's something solemn and sacred about cemetery trees. I often wonder if the oldest of the trees were present for the burials. When searching for a cemetery among the steep mountain canyons that were once logged by the community that briefly lived there, I wonder if there were any trees at all?
Linking up with Abracabadra for a Wordless Wednesday. Photos are from my search for Boulder Creek Cemetery. The mountains are full of trees today and the fallen lumber is that of the old logging camp. One tree we claimed as firewood and the tree rings reveal that it had indeed stood sentinel over the burials before it died of its own broken heart disease, blue stain.
Blue Stain, a Broken Heart Disease for Cemetery Trees |
Walking the Old Logging Trail in Search of Dead Trees to Fall |
All That's Left of Boulder City |
Hollow Log on Boulder Creek |
Whirl of Pine Needles |
Old Roots |
Larch in Blaze Orange for Fall |
Walking Among the Old Ones |
Cemetery Tree in the Distance |
Standing White Pine |
Fenced Boulder Creek Cemetery |
Distant View |
Cutting the Downed Pine |
Nature at it's best, Charli
ReplyDeleteI remember some clicks on FB via you and to chop and carry these heavy logs is not only cumbersome but also a tedious affair. I admire how you and your hubby do it with zeal :)
Always a pleasure to have you on board :)
It's satisfying work and the wood burning in our stove warms our hearts!
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