Statue of a woman who appears to be sleeping peacefully in a garden, clinging to a large cross. One hand rests near her face, clasping a flowing cloth as if it were a blanket. Hang this lovely, black and white poster wherever you want to create a calm, restful atmosphere.
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Your poster will be printed on classic poster paper especially for you after you order.
(Posters print without watermarks. I include those on web images so that no matter where they end up, people will be able to find my website.)
Posters ship rolled in a tube directly from my printmaker.
Benefits of this method include:
* You have more to choose from.
* You receive a brand-new poster, not a dusty relic warehoused for who-knows-how-long.
* Your order is environmentally sustainable because:
~ Resources are used only to create posters people want.
~ Eliminating warehouse space conserves energy.
~ Less shipping trips mean less impact from transportation.
Good for you, good for the planet!
One of Oakland Cemetery's oldest monuments, this statue of a woman clinging to a cross (the Dougherty Monument) marks the resting place of Daniel Dougherty and his father-in-law, Patrick Connely (a.k.a. Connally).
Daniel, his wife Mary Ann, and her father (Patrick), were Irish immigrants.
Patrick owned some tracts of land in Atlanta, which Mary Ann inherited after he died in 1851.
Daniel founded Atlanta's first bakery and owned a bowling alley.
Sadly, in 1855, Daniel was stabbed to death on Whitehall Street. Since there are no records of a murder trial in the case, it seems that his killer got away with it.
The monument was placed in 1855, presumably by Mary Ann.
When I visited Oakland Cemetery in 2008, they were still recovering from a tornado that had ripped out trees, damaged tombstones, and toppled monuments.
The statue had fallen across one of the paths, with the top resting on a curb.
(She was later restored to her former glory.)
Despite all the wreckage around her, she looked as though she were sleeping peacefully – having happy dreams, even.
I find it an apt metaphor for dealing with the troubles life sometimes throws at us. To best take care of our problems, we need to make sure we're also taking care of ourselves.
(For more about statues of women clinging to crosses, see Hold On.)