A Reminiscent Past

August 15, 2013  •  1 Comment

Where has the time gone? Boston came and went in the blink of an eye.

Every year, I believe what we deem 'Summer Vacation' gets shorter and shorter, like someone spins a dial, fast-forwarding those three months into a couple of days. As my last week of Boston life came closer, I did what everyone seems to do as time runs outs, I panicked a little. Despite all of the adventures I had taken and traveling I had done through New England, I felt like I had only covered a small chunk of Massachusetts and all that Boston had to offer. One of my closest friends and past THON Overall, my Meeshy, had sent me a link earlier in the summer titled, "How to Have a Great Boston Summer." I had perused this site in early July or so with the intention of visiting all of these places, and when I finally revisited this blog, it turns out I had unintentionally done just that.

Of course, there were a couple items I had not covered, but apparently I had done a pretty good job of utilizing my time in Boston. There was just one item left that intrigued me. That was Jamaica Pond. Located in a really unique area called Jamaica Plain, it turns out that this town had much more to offer than I could have imagined. Go figure it was only 15 minutes away and I had completely overlooked it all summer. 

When I decided to Google search Jamaica Pond, it wasn't the pond that initially caught my eye. Instead, there was this image of a Gothic-styled building that really drew my attention. It's kind of funny how we stumble upon random things like this in our lives. Random adventures, people, and even opportunities. In my experience, however, I have learned that embracing these random occurrences can only lead to unique experiences. Some of my favorite shots have resulted from taking a wrong turn on my initial photographic journey or simply stumbling upon a new area that I never knew existed. Spots and subjects that I would never have imagined otherwise, suddenly become the main subject of my blog. After clicking the link to this white-stone building, it turned out that this mausoleum was part of the Forest Hills Cemetery. Designed in 1848, this particular cemetery is one of the largest in the country spanning 275 acres as a greenspace, arboretum, and sculpture garden (Wikipedia).

I'd say I probably had one of the most unusual and unique last weeks in Boston because I spent two of those days adventuring through these sacred grounds trying to cover as much of this cemetery as possible. It turns out that 275 acres is quite a bit to cover in three hours and getting lost is almost a requirement. Regardless, this, by far, was one of the most interesting shoots I have ever done and one of the most creepy as well. Trying to stay focused, compose a shot... squirrels rustling leaves... crows cawing...trees blowing in the wind... it was like I started to notice every little movement and sound waiting for something or someone to come startle me. Fortunately, with the short amount of time I was given, I managed to highlight some of the history within these burial grounds.

This summer was truly a memorable experience and an opportunity that opened up my eyes to the future that may lie ahead. What started out as a job opportunity and a chance for me to expand my engineering knowledge turned into more an overall learning experience and a chance to explore an entirely new chapter of my life. Being on your own, you learn a lot about your strengths and weaknesses; however, sometimes feeling like the new kid in school (or Boston) and being vulnerable allows us to open up in a whole new way and meet some incredible people. I can't fully express how grateful I am for having this opportunity this summer, but hopefully some of my blog posts helped explain the once-in-a-lifetime experience I have had.

 I will be opening up my Bahston Travels album as of today so that all of my random travels are accessible. Thank you as always for visiting! Beach pictures are on the cue next. 




Marci Wilkinson(non-registered)
Beautiful, as usual.
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