I have been interested in cemeteries nearly all my life. I have taken many many photo's of stones in cemeteries, mostly in Kentucky. I was born in Webster, Ky, Breckinridge County in 1935. Back in the day, it seemed to be a custom to have a family cemetery on your farm. Not always, but a lot of families did this. My husband and I have tramped through brush, wild rose bushes and you name it, to get to some of these cemeteries. It's always worth the trip.
The photo above, is of my granddad's barn. It was built by my gg grandfather, Andrew Jackson Keys I, located on the Keys homeplace on the Rd. from Webster to Lodiburg. This is where I remember going as a child to visit my grandparents.

My Granddad's Barn
It was always there, My Granddad's barn. It stood so gracious and did no harm. On the road from Webster to Lodiburg, near the R.R. tracks, Oh my, how it takes me back, my Granddad's barn. When I was very little, every year we made the trip. It was long and hot and not much fun, but it was worth the wait. I can still feel the excitement when we rounded that last curve and I could see my granddad's barn. Now I am older and I knew, my Granddad's barn would someday be gone. It's 2011 and this was the year, the year of all my fear. I went down the road and it was gone, my Granddad's barn. Oh how I miss my Granddad's barn, on the road from Webster to Lodiburg.
Written by Mary Hall Nelson
September 2011

Dear Ancestor, your tombstone stands among the rest, neglected and alone. The name and date have all worn off the weathered marble stone. It reaches out to all who care, it's now too late to mourn. You did not know that I'd exist, you died and I was born. Yet, each of us are cells of you, in flesh, in blood, in bone. Our hearts contract and beat a pulse entirely not our own. Dear Ancestor, the place you filled, some hundred years ago, spreads out among the ones you left, who would have loved you so. I wonder how you lived and loved, I wonder if you knew, that someday I would find this place and come and visit you.

I have been interested in cemeteries nearly all my life. I have taken many many photo's of stones in cemeteries, mostly in Kentucky. I was born in Webster, Ky, Breckinridge County in 1935. Back in the day, it seemed to be a custom to have a family cemetery on your farm. Not always, but a lot of families did this. My husband and I have tramped through brush, wild rose bushes and you name it, to get to some of these cemeteries. It's always worth the trip.
The photo above, is of my granddad's barn. It was built by my gg grandfather, Andrew Jackson Keys I, located on the Keys homeplace on the Rd. from Webster to Lodiburg. This is where I remember going as a child to visit my grandparents.

My Granddad's Barn
It was always there, My Granddad's barn. It stood so gracious and did no harm. On the road from Webster to Lodiburg, near the R.R. tracks, Oh my, how it takes me back, my Granddad's barn. When I was very little, every year we made the trip. It was long and hot and not much fun, but it was worth the wait. I can still feel the excitement when we rounded that last curve and I could see my granddad's barn. Now I am older and I knew, my Granddad's barn would someday be gone. It's 2011 and this was the year, the year of all my fear. I went down the road and it was gone, my Granddad's barn. Oh how I miss my Granddad's barn, on the road from Webster to Lodiburg.
Written by Mary Hall Nelson
September 2011

Dear Ancestor, your tombstone stands among the rest, neglected and alone. The name and date have all worn off the weathered marble stone. It reaches out to all who care, it's now too late to mourn. You did not know that I'd exist, you died and I was born. Yet, each of us are cells of you, in flesh, in blood, in bone. Our hearts contract and beat a pulse entirely not our own. Dear Ancestor, the place you filled, some hundred years ago, spreads out among the ones you left, who would have loved you so. I wonder how you lived and loved, I wonder if you knew, that someday I would find this place and come and visit you.