The days approached steadily, as they do each year—filled with anticipation, hope, and a tinge of sadness. After all, Día de Muertos is a time to honor those we have “lost.” Yet nothing is ever truly lost—and that is why this celebration overflows with life in Mexico.
Armfuls of flowers are carried to home altars and gravesites. Marigold petals spill across store entrances, and hotels glow with candles and color. Parades surge through the streets—comparsas of every kind—people of all ages marching, drumming, and laughing. Happiness abounds, as if the dead were truly alive again.
3 min. video
From our village of San Pedro Ixtlahuaca, we drove into Oaxaca City to join the festivities and take part in our own small way. My camera, of course, was always in hand—this is a photographer’s dream come to life.![]() |
| Our ofrenda |
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| Barbara and Russ |
By chance we met Barbara and Russ, a lovely couple visiting from Vermont who collect my artwork—a sweet coincidence amid the celebration. The festival draws to a close this evening, with a band playing at the Zócalo, the heart of town. Amy and I will meet our collector friends there, savoring the last notes of music before the candles fade and we begin to wait again—for next year’s return of the spirits.



