Those of us who like family history make a beeline for graveyards when visiting somewhere with a family connection. I particularly like Scottish ones as they list all the children too. But many is the time I have tramped around graveyards and never found anything, most probably because our ancestors were buried in pauper’s graves and never got so much as a wooden cross. Then there are the gravestones where the weather has obliterated whatever was carved.
I find it sad that so many of our churchyards are overgrown, unkempt and uncared for. It’s so different on the continent, especially in France. The village graveyards are pristine and relatives visit on the Fetes des Morts, usually in early November to honour their dead.
Our search in Yarra Glen Cemetary for Isabella’s grave was the strangest. You would not think we could have missed this, but we did at first.
What is your strangest graveyard experience?