It’s snowing during my return trip to Oakwood Cemetery. Flakes sparkle in the sun as they make their way to the frozen earth. Despite this beautiful setting I struggle to shed my worries and responsibilities and immerse myself in the nature surrounding me. There is a covering of trees that separates me from the city, but I cannot escape the signs of civilization. No matter how far I walk into the cemetery I can hear the soft buzz from the nearby highway.

            Still, I try to block out the noise and appreciate the serenity usually offered by Oakwood. I close my eyes. I try to block out the hum of the highway and focus on the rustle of leaves. I hear the call of a few birds in the distance and listen to the wind whistling. Inhaling I smell damp soil. Cold air burns my lungs and stings my face, turning my nose and cheeks pink. The beauty of winter does not escape me.

            Nevertheless, the signs of people do not stop at the highway. On my walk I come across one of the abandoned buildings on the Oakwood premises. It was at one time a church, but now the windows are broken and boarded up. Pieces of stone lie in crumbles and dead vines climb the sides of the building. Abandoned nests can be seen tucked into the windows and nooks of the church. In a way this seems poetic. It appears that nature is reclaiming this place. Reverting to its natural state.

            I ponder the power of nature. I wonder, how long will it take before the church is gone? How many years will pass before one can’t tell a church ever stood in this spot? The disintegration of the church proves the cyclical character of nature. Before people developed the cemetery, this land was wild and untouched. The church was constructed and served its purpose. Now once again the land is becoming wild.

            Once again I am forced to leave this place of beauty. As I leave, more signs of civilization begin to resurface. I pass a few people leaving. They break my illusion. The calm I felt from this place is gone. I am once again separate from nature. Again, I am reminded that I was simply a visitor, an observer from a different world.