The gardens of the grim reaper (part 1)

In the Netherlands I was used to cemeteries being quite formal. We only visit them (on days other than a funeral) if we had to do something important. Such places are a bit apart from the ordinary world and therefore kept discrete by massive hedges or walls. Perhaps from the perspective that in general we were there to do private deals where passersby have nothing to do with it.

For example;

Discuss with the deceased.
Paying some attention because it’s a national holiday.
A visit because we are feeling guilty.
Begging for his/her approval in case we want to do something where about we and the deceased in life have disagreed (like marrying that dumb girl, or buying a boat).
Or provide an explanation if we had already done something like the latter.

Well, you get my point; typical the kind of cases for the wise invisibles …

In New Zealand, I could see the cemeteries in full regalia if we drive by. Which means; they are located right beside the road. Openly without bushes around it. Just a square piece of land, sometimes without a proper path or even without a sandy trail that leads to the graves. Preferably on a hill, so every deceased has a clear view on the traffic, like they are sitting in a cinema.

Along the highway:

Sometimes the tombstones are build until the very edge of the road. It takes some practice, but if you would like, you even can reduce speed and throw your bunch of flowers out of the window, right on granny’s grave:

Sometimes it’s like someone started a cemetery in his front yard, with 10 graves at most:

There are also more lonely places with sea view, bluntly located in a hollow in the dunes.
I think these days there are hardly any cemeteries anymore without the sunlight-charged garden led lights.

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