Raindrops falling, plink-plink, on marimba sculptures. The crunch of leaves underfoot. The carillon awakening at noon, sending its song over hills and valleys. Trees – white oak, cypress, birch – rustling in the wind on the banks of Lake Hibiscus. If you listen intently, and use a bit of imagination, you can hear even more at Forest Hills Cemetery in Jamaica Plain, a 275-acre, otherworldly oasis that is truly one of our greatest treasures.
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