A new season has to begin, I can feel it leaning in, whispering

--from an eponymous graveyard in Christiansburg, VA

I pass by this graveyard every day on my way to and from work. The faded flowers, foam crosses bending toward the ground, and weathered tombstones intrigue me. The graveyard is relatively unkempt, with vines and yucca plants blending around and through plastic flowers and faded flags. That mixture of the natural and artificial is one of the main things I find fascinating about the graveyard...how the plastic flowers are meant to withstand weather and time, but they're woven and tangled among the ivy and dead leaves. Eggleston and Christenberry's shots of lonely southern graves obviously came to mind while I was walking around photographing. I also thought about the people buried there, wondered what their lives had been like, how long it had been since someone had placed a flower on their tombstone. For a few, how long it had been since someone had thought about them, missed them.

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