And now I lie with them upon this hill
Mingling with Texas earth as seasons come and go.
Chilling northers bend grasses almost to the ground;
Low-hung clouds are misty blankets
Dropping days of rain upon the earth.
Then wild flowers make sweet the air in spring

”Old Cemetery on the Hill”

— Epitaph by Susanna O’Docharty in Laurel

The green lawn stretched across the gentle slope encompassing many acres. Tidy, it was apparently mowed and watered frequently, with the expanse interrupted by a few scattered small trees and stone markers in neat rows. At the center of the cemetery a stone building houses the ashes of cremated patrons alongside a small pond. Narrow paved roads bound the rows of markers, providing access to visitors and their caravans of new arrivals.

There is something calming about the green grass and neat rows of stones gridding the expanse. It seems a peaceful, empty place to rest. However, I find it depressing — dead bouquets littering the graves, a dearth of birds and animals and, well, nature. I suppose we try to eliminate nature from our final resting places intentionally. Our coffins are hard wood or steel-lined to prevent our decomposing bodies from mingling with the earth. It’s as though we want to keep ourselves separate from nature — where we came from — even after we are dead. It seems that we no longer accept the notion of “dust to dust, ashes to ashes,” and instead think in terms of permanence.

Sure, we can choose to be cremated, with our ashes either stored on the mantel or scattered in one of our favorite places. At least the ancient practice of funeral pyres created a cause for a celebration, however macabre.

However, there’s a new way to be buried now. Writer Andrew Krosofsky notes, “Most people assume that when they die, they will either be buried or cremated. These days, however, with funeral costs on the rise and burial plots becoming increasingly hard to come by in some places, having a third, more eco-friendly option is welcome news indeed … Tree pod burials allow the deceased to be buried and reborn as a tree … Tree pod burials involve putting human remains in pods rather than caskets, and burying them so that a tree will grow from the grave rather than a tombstone.”

It’s not hard to imagine that green lawn dotted with trees along with tombstones. However, Texas Historic Commission staffer Mallory Laurel notes, “a forgotten truth about cemeteries of the past: hardly the monotonous, neatly mowed lawns we’ve come to associate with modern perpetual-care graveyards, many cemeteries in Texas were once wild prairie landscapes populated with wildflowers … In other parts of the U.S., cemeteries were ecologically dynamic spaces, cultivated as wilderness destinations for the public before public parks became the norm in the U.S. Excursions to cemeteries were commonplace in the mid-19th century, especially among city-dwellers who sought out green spaces to escape from the crowded and often unsanitary conditions of cities … Today, the practice of scattering wildflower seed in historic cemeteries is part of a movement to reduce the cost of lawn maintenance and restore the biodiversity to these once rich landscapes.”

Writer Sam Hooper Samuels describes efforts to restore wild prairie landscapes in cemeteries, “Right now, the cemetery is mowed once or twice a year. According to naturalists, that’s not a bad arrangement for maintaining a healthy prairie remnant. Before settlement by farmers, a prairie like this would have been laid low on a pretty similar schedule by bison and prairie fires, important parts of the life cycle of the prairie. The mowing doesn’t exactly replicate the action of those historical phenomena, but it’s close. Some invasive plants that would have been stopped by fire aren’t as well controlled by the occasional mowing, and so the cemetery has more oaks than a pure prairie would, as well as incursions by sumac and other weedy plants.”

I am more comfortable surrounded by trees, flowers and even open prairie than by concrete, carefully mown lawns and the bustle of traffic. Whether there’s an afterlife or not, or one where we can look down on our ‘final resting place,’ I like the idea of being back into nature. 

Instead of “dust to dust, ashes to ashes,” I like the idea of flesh to tree or flower or prairie, or even to all the wild biota that were in me when I was born and throughout my life. I could easily rest in peace in nature.

Additional information:

Andrew Krosofsky, These Biodegradable Burial Pods Will Turn You Into a Tree, June 16, 2023 Green Matters

Mallory Laurel, Historic Cemeteries Across Texas Are Scattering Wildflower Seed, Texas Historical Commission, undated

Sam Hooper Samuels, Hallowed Prairie, http://www.iowadnr.gov, undated