It has been a chilly, dark day here, entirely appropriate for finding an old prairie cemetery on my walking route.
That's not something you expect to see amid recently built industrial buildings (many now empty) and on the verge of a busy highway.
The cemetery was established in 1855 by Rev. George Blewett. His daughter, Anne, was the first to be buried there. In time, Rev. Blewett joined her there, as did other members of his family. His son -- grandson? -- was one of the last to be interred there, in 1919. Other families have gravesites within the simple iron fence as well.
Given the size of the fenced-off land, I have to assume many grave markers have vanished over the years. Were they stolen, or were there many wooden crosses and plaques that didn't withstand 90 years of neglect?
I felt transported far away from the busy area Where I Live Now. This is the kind of place one expects to stumble across when driving down a lonely back road, a place to be appreciated without traffic noises and other signs of modern life....
For once, I'm a bit sad that I don't use some tricky photo-manipulation program that would allow me to wipe away the trappings of civilization from the background. Buildings, cars and telephone wires have nothing to do with this place.
By the same token, I wish I had some idea of the stories entombed below the remaining headstones....
14 hours ago