You Never Know Who You're Gonna Run Into

That's our name!

You can imagine my surprise when I ran into my name in the cemetery. 

Live oaks dripping with Spanish Moss all of which overhangs
the markers and memorials.

I literally ran back to the truck in flats, not heels this time; camera in hand, strap still hanging around my neck, where Dan was patiently waiting with Humphrey & Missy in the shade of giant oaks which were planted from acorns fallen off the trees at the Butler Greenwood Plantation. He had decided that he really wasn't into touring cemeteries. I guess dead people don't thrill him, and I suppose it takes a different kind of person (weird, macabre maybe) to appreciate the beauty in the headstones, columns and memorials marking the various resting places of the occupants of the cemetery. We'd already visited Grace Episcopal Church as well as St. John's church which was just outside the beautiful, ornate wrought iron fenced area housing Grace and the cemetery.  

Entrance gates to the cemetery and chruch

Breathless, I ran smack into a nice older couple as they were trying to enter the cemetery gates. After apologies, and thrills to see that I hadn't knocked them over or broken my camera. I kept running to the truck to tell Dan he has potential relatives in there. When they saw me stop at the truck, nice folks that they were they came over to make sure everything was ok. 
You see there was this tour bus on the street out front and they thought I was running for it. I have had to do that before. But even running I missed the other bus in another cemetery no less. What is it about me and cemeteries! Anyway I had to run to get to the next stop on the tour just to be able to stay up with the rest of the group. That stunk! Thankfully not this time. This time Dan was driving and I knew he wouldn't leave me. After all, the talking down he would get when I did catch up to him would not have been worth the few minutes of peace and quiet. :)
After explaining what I found, Dan decided to go take a look for himself. The nice couple was still with us and again I saw upraised eyebrows for my explanation of what I had found. Do I really have that effect on so many people, just because I was running out of a cemetery? 
Surprised doesn't even cover the reaction from us in finding headstones with the same last name we share. Our regret is that the church office wasn't open since it was Saturday so we couldn't get any information on the other Kimbroughs. Plus I looked in the town phone book to see if there were any Kimbroughs listed. No luck. So maybe I'll become a super sleuth and call the church office and see what I can find out. Then again, maybe I have enough other things to do at this point. Who knows.
Now here's just a little background on the church and cemetery. The congregation formed in 1827, the founding pastor was the son-in-law of a plantation owner in the area. This brick church you see in the pictures dates from 1860 just before the civil war. The church spire was visible back then from the Mississippi, and consequently drew fire from Union boats who wanted control of the river. The church was heavily damaged due to this shelling and wasn't repaired and rebuilt till 1893. However, the organ in the church survived and also dates from 1860. Something I heard while in the cemetery was someone compared it to the Garden of Eden. Come to think of it, it does look idyllic, peaceful and tranquil. 
The small wooden structure named St. John's church was built as a memorial for the only daughter of a confederate colonel in 1873 and consecrated in 1874 at a whopping cost of $2200. It was a lovely structure with old cypress floors and lovely stained glass windows and was used for services and Sunday school till the original church could be repaired. The congregation of Grace church had been meeting in the Methodist church in town not far from their church since their church had been damaged from the war. 

The commander's marker

And of course Grace church has one more of those personal stories that I like so much. While the church was under fire in the summer of 1863, the Commander of one of the boats involved in the siege committed suicide. It is believed he was delirious due to yellow fever. He was a Mason, and had requested that his burial, should he die in the war, be a Masonic service. So in keeping with his final wishes the doctor and two officers trudged up the Tunica Hills from the Mississippi to the town of St. Francisville to see if there was anyway that they could find brother Masons to accomodate the commander's wishes. As it happened one of the Ley people left in charge at Grace church during the war was a Mason and the soldiers had run across one of the oldest Masonic temples in the state directly across from the church. So for a day, just one day the war stopped in St. Francisville while both southerners of the town and northerners of the Union boat conducted services for a fellow brother, who was laid to rest in the Masonic area of the cemetery after a Masonic service was conduted by both Confederate and Yankee Masons. 

Grace Episcopal dates from 1860

I just loved the way this looked. Someone was a big deal.
There own fence and monument inside. And only theirs.

This is the gate of a fenced in area. It was just so elaborate
and pretty.

This looked so amazing, just all by itself
surrounded by gardenias.

Not only a monument but a gate to another part of the cemetery.

Another one of the elaborate family
gates. What scroll work.

This is a father and son markers. Sad.

Over a hundred years this marker has
been there.

So many children's and baby's graves. Little angels.

There were a few like these. With head
and foot markers or stones. Some had
plantings in between, some had water
features and some just grass.

Isn't it lovely! A weeping willow
captured forever on the gate of a family
plot. Just beautiful work.

No name, just initials for this poor baby.

Another lovely family plot gate.

This marked another child's resting place. A pretty bench
with squirrels. Sad that it marks the death of a child.

Almost forgotten. This is all that's left of the
enclosed area that was the family plot. Just a gate.

Look at the metal work. The medallion in
the center. 

Gardenias, all in bloom and smelling like a little piece of
heaven.

Planted near the graves; azaelas,
gardenias, irises, lillies. And the ever
present Live Oaks.

Mother and child. I wonder what
caused their deaths. Yellow fever?
Child birth?

A Water feature.

Just another amazing gate. The craftsmanship was truly
something.

This struck me as someone who was quite
impressed with himself. He's there all alone.

A family crypt.

Where are they? Under the opening?