A storm blew in over East Mountain late this morning. As far as storms go, it wasn't very large or particularly menacing. Still, it was a thundershower powerful enough to change a somewhat sunny but cool spring morning into something different--something darker and more Gothic.
Mr. Gray (cemetery cat) must have known it was coming because I found him waiting by the front door when I got home. Perhaps he noticed the dark clouds descending upon us rapidly from the northwest, or he may have heard the rumblings of thunder in the distance. Either way, he seemed quite anxious to get inside and his instincts were right on. The rain began to come down just seconds after I took off my jacket. I listened to the sound of the raindrops hitting the windows and soaking the ground. The thunder rumbled as the sky continued to darken.
Suddenly a brisk wind began to blow. Large trees swayed while the gusts picked up dead leaves and spring's early blooms, tossing them across the landscape. The heat emanating from the wood stove felt warm and welcoming as it provided ample protection from the elements.The storm exited the area after only about five minutes. Still, the wind continued and for awhile at least, the sky remained cloudy.
I wanted to take in the darkness and the wind--the feel of the moment. So, I took a walk in the woods, as I enjoy doing on blustery days, and visited some of the abandoned burial grounds.
This is the Wilson Family Monument. It towers over several small grave markers that are placed around. There is a city park here that's named after a prominent member of this family. I believe that he was one of the community's earliest merchants.
These two grave markers lie a bit farther into the woods. The tall stone belongs to T.J. Walker. The other bears no inscription. At one time these plots were surrounded by an extensive stretch of thick wire fencing, which now lies upon the ground. The burial place of Sally, which I featured and spoke about roughly a year ago,
lies off to the right a bit.
I call this guy the Guardian to the North. He loves to ride on the wind; his black robe trailing behind him as he soars on each gust. Although he inhabits a fairly shady area, the early morning sun has, over time, compromised the darkness of his robe.