god is love
until the day dawns
the sacred heart of balmoral
side by side in death
bunny
faithful unto death
While reviewing images to edit for what should have been the past week's #SepulchralSunday post, I decided I wanted to create a new curated series called last words. Photographs from my sepulchre series that focus closely on poignant inscriptions on graves.
This capture and another I took at St Kilda Cemetery in 2007 caught my eye and inspired the idea.
Strangely, I had already edited this particular photograph. Notably, the day before my birthday in 2018.
However, I can't see where I've previously published it online or otherwise, and I don't know why exactly I edited it that day.
As I can't locate where I might have published it, I have to believe I never shared it before, so I stuck with my choice for the first post from this new curated series.
I hope you enjoy this new series as I share them over the coming weeks mixed in with my other series: late bloomers, stained glass and, as we approach Christmas again, season's grievings.
striped treasures
More Gazania from the St Kilda Cemetery.
suffer little children
untitled #2
viloplats
The latest product from Ikea*: a flat-packed, self-assembly grave.
edward-howard howard-gibbon
The final resting place of a Norroy King of Arms.
death and roses
between the trees
full of goodness
The inscription on the headstone of this grave reads Eenvoudig en oprecht vol goedheid was uw leven, uw edel hart heeft ons zoveel gegeven.
According to Google Translate, it means Your life was simple and sincere, full of goodness, your noble heart has given us so much.
The other photograph I took of this grave showed the other two items holding more cobweb hens and chicks - or sempervivum - and the inscription, but it wasn't sharp and worthy of sharing. However, I decided to take the title for this image from the inscription.
I took this after the rain in the churchyard of the Church of Our Lady of the Assumption in Wulveringem.
The church is opposite Kasteel Beauvoorde. We visited the castle (it was the reason we were in the town), but I've yet to edit most of the photos from there. Another task on my to-do list...
innocence lost
the lighthouse keeper’s son
Nearby the lighthouse at Table Cape in Tasmania lies the small grave of the infant son of the first Table Cape lighthouse keeper.
Bertram Jackson passed away a little over two weeks after the lighthouse opened in 1888.
The lighthouse keepers left Table Cape sometime after 1920 when the lighthouse operation became automated. However, his little body remains.