One of the best parts about Georgia is that there are hidden gems peppering the state that once you stumble across you'll be in complete awe—like this beautiful architectural dreamscape, which you never would guess sits smack dab in the middle of Georgia. The Hindu Temple of Atlanta is truly a magical place and no matter your denomination, you'll want to see this beaut in person.
The Hindu Temple of Atlanta was built in 1990 after a group of Hindu friends spent years trying to erect a place where they can come together.
Ghostly Grandeur Awaits at This Hauntingly Beautiful Cemetery in Georgia
Even if you don't believe in ghosts, it's hard to not feel something when exploring this historic place, which is one of the most beautiful in Savannah.
Savannah, Georgia, is widely considered to be among the most haunted cities in the US. It's incredibly historic, the setting for many a ghost story, and, let's face it: there's something eerily beautiful about all that hanging Spanish moss.
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Bonaventure Cemetery is one of the city's largest cemeteries and it's also home to many chilling tales. Even if you're not a strong believer in the paranormal, you'll likely feel something in the air here. This is an incredibly gorgeous place, one of the prettiest spots in an extremely pretty city, but there's also a subtle creepiness about it that you feel in your veins as you stroll through the graves.
The first burial in Bonaventure Cemetery took place in 1846. The cemetery is located on the grounds of the Bonaventure Plantation, a 600-acre farm founded in 1762 on a bluff along the Wilmington River. The plantation's mansion was destroyed in a fire in 1804, but the land would pass through various families before eventually becoming a public cemetery. The graveyard gained national prominence in 1994 with the release of "Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil." This non-fiction novel (and later film) is a dramatized account of the trial related to the 1981 murder of Savannah resident Danny Hansford.
Bonaventure may not have become a household name until the release of "The Book," as you'll sometimes hear it called in Savannah, but Georgians have long known about this place, thanks largely to its otherworldly beauty. There are several prominent names interred here, including poet Conrad Aiken and Revolutionary statesmen Noble Jones.
A sculpture of a grieving maiden tops a grave monument at the Bonaventure Cemetery in Savannah, Georgia.
One of the most-visited graves here was not a famous person in life, but she has certainly made a name for herself in death. "Little Gracie" Watson's grave is surrounded by an iron fence, and it's not unusual to see it decorated with toys and gifts left by visitors. The little girl was born in 1883 and was the daughter of the manager of Savannah's Pulaski Hotel. She passed away in 1889 after a battle with pneumonia. Her father commissioned the life-sized sculpture that now adorns her grave, and many visitors to Savannah report seeing her ghost dancing in Johnson Square, where the Pulaski Hotel once stood.
This being a cemetery in what is possibly the country's most haunted city, it goes without saying that there are quite a few legends swirling around ghosts and spookiness in the graveyard. Many of the graves here feature elaborate statues similar to Little Gracie's, and you'll see biblical figures like angels as well as statues representing the deceased that have long since left this world. Visitors often report seeing some of these statues move or change expressions, and many a marble angel has allegedly been seeing crying.
Bonaventure Cemetery, Savannah Georgia – Savannah’s oldest cemetery, immortalized in best-selling Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil
Ghosts aside, this place is incredibly beautiful, and it's always one of my favorite spots to visit just to relax and think. In Victorian times, families would picnic and stroll through cemeteries like we do in parks today. Nowadays, it may seem a little odd to be walking around surrounded by death, but when you're in a place as beautiful as Bonaventure, it becomes a little more understandable as to why people would come here to relax.
I love seeing the way the light dances upon the statues and headstones here, and how the sunlight looks so different throughout the day and year. Watching the shadows dart through the spooky Spanish moss draped all around gives the entire place a completely unique ambiance that I've never felt in any other cemetery. The abundance of trees and azalea bushes means that even on a day where it's crowded with sightseers, you can find a quiet corner to be alone with your thoughts.
Lisa Sammons/Only In Your State
It's impossible to walk through and read the headstones and not think about the lives that all these people led, so long ago. I find the little sheep figures designating a child's grave to be particularly haunting - seeing them makes you think about love and loss, those brilliant lives cut short and how their birth and death were such noteworthy days for their families - noteworthy days that came far too close together.
Lisa Sammons/Only In Your State
Savannah is such a unique city that's full of amazing destinations, but I find few to be as utterly enchanting as Bonaventure Cemetery. Whether you love history, natural beauty, or are a fan of the spooky and creepy, this is an amazing destination for anyone to visit. If you're looking to get an up-close-and-personal look at the cemetery, check out some of the guided tours offered through Viator.
I think many can relate when I say that I was quite ready to get out of my hometown by the time I graduated high school. Sure, Savannah, Georgia may be widely considered one of the country's most beautiful cities. Pretty much any list of the most historic cities in the country is going to include it. It's one of the South's most popular tourist destinations, welcoming 17 million visitors a year. But I lived there from birth, and by age 18, I had that all-too-relatable young adult urge of wanting to spread my wings and get as far away as possible. I daydreamed of Chicago, San Francisco, and a myriad of other exotic-sounding locales all over the country. I eventually settled for the more budget-friendly option of Athens, Georgia: four hours north, home to a suitable, family-approved college in the University of Georgia, and what felt like a world away from my parents and everything I had known before.
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I spent more than a decade away, coming back for monthly weekend visits to see my divorced parents. My mom lived in a modest home on the suburban southside, my dad had a colorful historic house in the trendy downtown area that attracts all the tourists and national headlines. Over the years, my dad became something of a local celebrity. He loved live music, lived for it, and saw hundreds of concerts a year. It didn't matter to him if it was a global superstar (the Rolling Stones were his favorite) or an unknown teenage garage band. It was his passion and life's purpose. As a friendly, outgoing guy, he talked to just about anyone and everyone at all the venues he visited. From The Jinx to Moodright's, every time I called him, I was regaled by stories of his evening antics.
Each time I visited, we couldn't go anywhere downtown without running into someone he knew, and he'd always greet them with a smile. We'd stop by a show – from The Accomplices (one of his favorite local groups) to Barry Manilow. There was always music, there were always smiles and friends, and there was always an undying love for the city that radiated from him with every action.
Last September, I was unexpectedly drawn back to the city in an unfortunate way. I was awakened in the middle of the night by a phone call from a Savannah police officer. My dad was gone, the victim of an accident on his red electric bike that he adored. I spent the long hours until sunrise paralyzed with shock, then arranged for a friend to come watch my home while I traveled back to Savannah to do whatever needed to be done. I didn't know because it was the type of thing I normally would have asked my dad about and he wasn't there, just an endless list of "do this, arrange that, don't forget about this!"
That time period is so foggy in my memory now, and so many things are just hints of memories to me now. While I know I was sorting out all kinds of practical tasks like paying bills and dealing with the court, but I don't remember the details.
The things I remember are much more tangible and so intricately woven into the fabric of Savannah as a city. Starting each day with a coffee from Big Bon Bodega. Mornings spent working in the beautiful Bull Street Library after my dad's Wi-Fi got cut off for non-payment. Lunches picking at grilled cheese sandwiches at The Black Rabbit because it was one of his favorite restaurants. Hours walking through Forsyth Park, lost in thoughts I can no longer remember. Spending time in such a beautiful city was a striking contrast to my depression.
It's an odd and uncomfortable thing, losing someone who was seemingly beloved by a whole city. In the haze of tribute concerts, online articles, and even a painting by local artist Panhandle Slim, I had such a storm of emotions inside me. I just wanted to scream, "He wasn't your dad!" at everyone sobbing at his loss. Now, with the benefit of time, I see it was a beautiful thing that so many were so sad. He felt a love that few get to experience, and even now, when I visit Savannah, I'm overcome by how much I feel him there.
I visited the city so many times over the last year, usually to deal with the mundane tasks that come up during the haze of grief. In between things like filing for estate executorship and giving away his many, many band t-shirts, it occurred to me that maybe I didn't dislike the city so much after all. The incredible sense of community that I feel when I visit is practically unheard of in a city of 150,000. The restaurants are delicious. There's so much history. And you really, really can't beat the charm of the Spanish moss draping down overhead.
I am probably not ever going to live in Savannah again (I hate the heat!). But the Hostess City will always be a part of my dad, and so it will always be a part of me. I feel him when I'm standing along the Savannah River, walking down oak-lined 37th Street, or paying a visit to Graveface Records. Losing the people that we love is inevitable, but they live on – not just in our memories, but in the places they touched, the spots that shape who they were. I no longer have my dad, but I will always have Savannah.
