Playing in the Graveyard:
We had so much fun running around in there, playing hide and seek. We'd find secret spots in the massive lilac bushes. There'd be chasing and squealing, and even searching for wild rabbits.
The graveyard was what we called a 'hop, step and a jump' away from my place, on a quarter acre piece that was probably donated by my family. I felt totally at home there.
Us kids would meet up, or go over together after playing at the river. Even the cornfield, with corn taller than me, although good for hiding, was not as alluring. We could spend hours exploring the graveyard, with its undergrowth and grave markers.
Before my time, people on the 4th concession were buried there. One story was that my great grandfather's first wife, who died in childbirth, and her babies were in there. Last year when I visited the old farmhouse in Ontario, I noticed a portrait of the two of them. My youngest brother Ernie had kept it on the wall.
Eventually those spots, dotted throughout the townships, got tidied up. I suppose people thought it was a respectful thing to do.
I love the photos that my neighbour Mary took of her 4 kids and me. We'd be on rafts, in chicken sheds, in the snow. Sadly there are no graveyard shots. I may just write to her to ask if she has graveyard stories, and maybe even a photo.