A side note... In February 2008, my husband took a photography workshop. As a field trip, the class visited historic Oakland Cemetery in downtown Atlanta for a photo assignment. For those of you that are not familiar with it, Oakland is the resting place of many famous citizens, civil war soldiers, "Gone With the Wind" author, Margret Mitchell, and its paths are a reflective history of the city and her people. It was originally Atlanta Cemetery, but was renamed in the mid 1800's to Oakland because of the wonderful oak trees that dotted the 88 acre parcel. http://www.oaklandcemetery.com/ I carried my camera, and found myself wandering the paths, and I soon became completely mesmerized by the epitaphs and intricate carvings on the markers. I found it to be a peaceful Sunday outing, but little did I realize that I was documenting some of the last days of Oakland in its glory. One month later, March 2008, a tornado ripped through downtown Atlanta. Most of the news attention was on the damage to high rise buildings in the city, but in the days that followed, they begin to show the destruction at Oakland. "The trees!" I thought. As I watched the news stories and pictures, I re watched my photoshow of my visit. A local TV channel did a follow up program about the cemetery and its damage. This site also has a photo slide show of the damage. http://www.wsbtv.com/slideshow/news/15617259/detail.html How relieved I was that our trees and place were spared. There have been many storms and tornadoes this year. We have lost several trees. As I walk the trails around The Cabin Path, I wonder about the history of our place. We have the unmarked grave on the hill behind the cabin, and the rock piles and squared stones of the rock circle that are perhaps unmarked epitaphs to those that once walked over our place. I remember a verse from a Native American poem reads:
Do not stand at my grave and weep. I am not there, I do not sleep.
Do not stand at my grave and cry. I am not there, I did not die!
and I realize that we do live on though the lives of those who stop to remember.