Old cemeteries - nature reclaiming

Slowly fading away

Welcome to my wee corner of Substack. I am a seasonal artist living on the Isle of Arran, off the west coast of Scotland. I am the custodian of approximately two acres of land that includes a woodland, a meadow and my wee garden. I offer a seasonal book arts project for paid subscribers if you are interested and you can read more about that HERE. Grab a cuppa and lets delve into our relationship with the shifting seasons…

Since I was a small child I have been fascinated with cemeteries and, interestingly, my youngest is the same. He is now 25 but when he was younger we used to go and visit cemeteries as part of home school and study graves and do some research into the folk buried there. Over time we learnt a great deal about familiar names and families and it was a good way to access local history.

Last week my daughter,

Molly Ella

, and her partner were visiting so we went to an old cemetery on the island as we have been reading the book ‘The secret life of a cemetery’ by Pere-Lachaise. It piqued our interest in the role nature plays in these places. On entry I was immediately gripped by the structures inhabiting the space and that surprised me as my aim was to photo nature creeping in from the sides. Newer cemeteries have taken over from this one but I did notice a couple of newer headstones since my last visit and they are clearly family plots.

There is a coolness to the space that lifts off from all the beautiful stonework. Much of the engravings are faded now as time has marched on but the sentiments remain as do the memories. When I visit a cemetery I don’t feel ‘death’ in any form. I feel ‘rest’ and an incedible sense of peace. Summer is a good time to visit as the island swells with tourist but none of them are heading here.

Someone cuts the grass but that is it for maintanence. The gates are all rusty and in need of repair and they are padlocked to vehicles. There is a small entrance next to it just wide enough to squeeze through. The grass cutting can’t get right up to the headstones so many of them have a halo of daisies and that is the first clue that nature is trying to reclaim.

Also growing in the grass is self-heal and isn’t that just fascinating? This wee plant is a really important pollinator supporting life in butterflies and bees. In folkore self-heal is thought to heal and protect and it is the latter that interests me. If a relative of mine was buried here I would like to think that this wee power house of a plant was protecting them. A single spotted orchid rises from the cut grass defying human intervention.

However, it is at the edges where we encounter nature beginning to creep into the space in a real attempt to reclaim. The foxglove poking through the rusty fence, the felled tree providing endless habitat and the overhead tree canopy framing the space and providing shade from the midday sun. All of it is utterly spellbinding and in a quiet gentle space it all feels just right.

As I prepare to leave I notice the artificial flowers on a grave and a wee metal flower planted in the grass. They make me take a sharp breath in as I am confronted with the fact that nothing lasts forever. Even these treasures are slowly fading away…….

As I walk to the car I contemplate that point further and I realise that I quite like that. We all fade away in one way or another. I vow to return when I have more time and visit during each season to see how this special place changes. We drive away to take in a viewpoint nearby and the contrast is immediate. I love both spaces but I will be drawn back to the old cemetery time and time again. I feel it has much to say.

Until next time, Fiona xx

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