You can’t spell cemETERy without TREE.

Rarely are human edifices and nature so aligned as a park cemetery. It’s telling that humans are most harmonious with nature when dead. Seems kinda obvious now that I’ve written it out.

ANYWAY – I love trees in cemeteries. Partly because they are beautiful. They really set the mood. But I also love what trees represent. And what they can represent.

The nice thing about cemetery trees as symbols is that they always “work”. If you were walking through a graveyard and see a headstone with the symbol of an upside-down torch, you’d know it had specific meaning. What that meaning is – likely no idea. And that symbolism can be lost to time. In a few thousand years archaeologists are going to think, “these people didn’t understand fire AT ALL – or they’re magic!” (Probably not, but still the specific meaning may be lost without taking it to “ancient aliens created the pyramids” level of stupidity)

Trees are beyond this. A tree as a symbol of life and growth seems obvious enough. But much more importantly – trees don’t need to be symbols to be valuable. Trees are successful just by being trees. Was it put there deliberately? By chance? (You never get a carving of a skull with wings by chance)

The tree is inextricably tied to seasons. Being part of the cycle of life and death, trees serve as a simple reminder of our place in time and nature. 

Do I have any favorite cemetery trees? Why thank you for asking.

The Yew Tree

Look, a lot of tree species are in the running for best cemetery tree, the yew comes up often. And why not? They can live hundreds of years, outlasting many generations and remaining a living symbol for a long time. Its association with life and death makes sense in a way – the yew is exceptionally toxic and dangerous if humans consume it, yet the Japanese and Native Americans both used the yew for healing properties. And a slightly darker connection to death – the yew went nearly extinct in parts of England thanks to the Hundred Years War – the English’s advantage often attributed to their long bows, made out of yew. Guns came along and saved the yew. Thanks guns (find the silver linings)! (1)(2)

Death Becomes Yew

The Hardy Tree

Sadly, this tree has recently fallen. But a truly special and strange graveyard tree. Thomas Hardy, poet and novelist, quite good, I’d say, was a young man at an architecture firm that had to move some graves at St. Pancras Old Church in London. Make way for the rapidly expanding underground transit! 1860’s – What a time to be alive. Bodies were exhumed and moved; Mr. Hardy saw it fit to arrange the leftover headstones in a nice little ring around this ash tree. And it grew in and around the graves until 2022, when the tree succumbed to a fungus that had infected it in 2014. Fittingly, the caretakers knew the end was coming, just not exactly when, so the tree was getting in-home hospice care. (3)

Roger William’s Apple Tree

More commonly known as The Apple Tree that Ate Roger Williams, but that’s too sensationalistic for me. The founder of Rhode Island was originally given a less than dignified burial in an unnotable and undernoted grave.  It was 200 years later, in 1860 (apparently the heyday for cemetery tree news), when they dug ol’ Roge up, only to find a sizable root had grown right through him – even splitting at the legs. And an apple tree no less! Cemeteries, apple trees, founder mythology – it’s all very New England. (4)

Any good tree/grave combo

See picture. The symbolism is bursting out…

Tree graves

One of the more curious grave types is the tree grave. Thick with symbolism – sometimes shaped as a cross, or a series of logs for mom, dad, etc., or sometimes just a stump to signify too short a life. There’s also the unavoidable symbol of carving a living thing out of rock to memorialize the dead while surrounded by living versions of the carving. Weird. A lot of the tree carving can be attributed to Woodmen of the World, an organization founded to provide life insurance to rural families. If you were game for getting a grave that looks like a stump, they’d chip in. Their symbolism is inspired from the idea of pioneers clearing out the woods to provide for their families, which is fine, but totally lost on everyone today. (5)

Has anyone used petrified wood as a gravestone? I think that’s a great idea. Maybe carve it into a life-like tree? Wood that became stone and has existed for millions of years carved back into a tree to memorialize a death – can you have too much symbolism?

Auld Lang Syne and Farewells as old as Time

Chromolithographic print from 1905 titled “Auld Lang Syne”

While the flipping of the calendar year is often met with celebration, it is typically done while looking at hope and dreams of the future. And that makes sense – the past few years have been weird and rough for… (searches the internet) huh – everyone! Surviving another year inevitably feels like a victory. Even if we’re not sure what we’re looking forward to, we can at least say we got through what’s now behind us. Which is the standard order of things.

Because of that, there isn’t much celebratory “farewell” within our end of year bashes. But, in a lovely example of… irony? No. Self-reference? No. Circular something or other? Whatever… In a lovely example of being an example of itself, Auld Lang Syne, THE New Year song, is sung enthusiastically about remembering the good times and people that got us here. I’m not the nostalgic sort, but it’s great to have a very old song about remembering the past being used to remember the past. Was Auld Lang Syne ever a new song? It works so well as a farewell song because we haven’t said farewell to IT. How many people have sung the half-remember and hazily-understood lyrics and thought of a loved one? And now we all share the memory of using the very same song to connect with our very singular pasts.

And there’s a hand my trusty friend!

And give me a hand o’ thine!

And we’ll take a right good-will draught,

for auld lang syne.

(Standard English remix of the Robert Burns cover of Auld Lang Syne)

To be fair, it’s also a drinking song. That’s why we sing it. And perhaps the lyrics aim to fight the memory damage wrought by drinking.

It’s not an uncommon hear the song at graduations, weddings, and (obviously) funerals. It looks backwards, not with longing and regret, but with love and appreciation. A perfect way to enjoy a first/last moment of the year; the past celebrated, the present enjoyed, and the future unconsidered. And when you cast your mind back to times worthy of recollection, think of all the people in the past centuries who you’ve now shared a moment with. For auld lang sine.

Death Bee-comes You!

Bee tombstone from the Bosdrift Cemetery in Hilversum (Netherlands). From Henk van Kampen’s flickr account

Humans and bees have long been intertwined in their lives (and their deaths) – From agriculture to society to religion, bees have been part of the story.

Humans keep looking to bees for answers and inspiration: The Fable of the Bees is a early 18th century version of Wall Street’s “Greed is good!” Drive around Utah, and you’ll see the hive everywhere, symbolizing industriousness, or, as initially was the case of the Mormons, the kingdom of God.

Above, a bee presents a honeycomb to the Olympian gods in the clouds; below, bees are flying into and out of two wicker beehives; illustration of a fable – Francis Barlow, 1668. Wellcome Collection

Unsurprisingly, bees have been wrapped up in death as well as life. And not just in their “killer” form. Nowhere is this better evidenced by the 18th and 19th century practice of Telling the Bees. In the United States (particularly New England) and Western Europe, if someone in the house passes away, the bees must be informed. You informed them? Great, now give them some time to mourn. Hives are covered with appropriately black cloth, giving the hive time to come to terms with the loss of a member of the family. There’s a whole poem about it, fittingly titled “Telling the Bees” (the fella who wrote the poem, John Greenleaf Whittier, was a pretty excellent Quaker Abolitionist, a member of the American Philosophical Society, and the writer of a poem that was incorrectly attributed to Ethan Allen for 60 years, I guess Mr. Whittier just never brought it up).

Bees handle death within their hive in their own way (no informing anyone, no mourning cloth). A small percentage of bees are “undertaker bees” – pulling dead bees out of the hive and dropping them a respectful (safe) distance from the hive. They are very quick – sometimes taking less than an hour to spot a deceased comrade and getting it out of the house. And curiously, they seem to be able to identify the dead bees by what they’re not giving off, which sounds very vibes based, but it’s not.


Bees by Sebastian. Brandt – 1580 – Wellcome Collection, United Kingdom

Bees are great. Any creature that can make a food that never spoils must be something special.