My Autumn Place Pt. 2 - Golden Burial Grounds

"October is nature's funeral month.

Nature glories in death more than in life.

The month of departure,

is more beautiful than the month of coming… October than May.

Every green thing loves to die in bright colors."

~ Henry Ward Beecher

The second part of my Autumn Place post centers around the Graveyards in Peacham VT. Peacham only has one main intersection. That's were you see the sign in the first photo on my Part 1 post. At that intersection, sits a quaint red country store that usually has mums and pumpkins and a scarecrow or two adorning it's weathered steps. From there you can either go N, S, E or W! One of the two roads will either take you up a hill or down the hill, depending on which direction you choose to go. But either direction will take you to a cemetery.
If you drive up the hill...you will pass the tiny one door fire station on the right and the City Hall on the left, as well as a red barn where black and white spotted cows stare at you through soft brown eyes. I think to myself that they probably have some sort of 'cow dialogue' going on where they complain about the pesky tourists like me taking their picture as if we'd never seen cows before...ha! Then you come to a beautiful cemetery that sits majestically beneath a canopy of huge gold and orange maples. Some of the headstones are newer, but there are old ones there as well, and you can drive around the road that winds through them. It's breathtaking in there. The ground has an Autumn carpet of colored leaves that blanket the earth, almost as if Mother Nature is tucking in the deceased for their long winter's nap. We always seem to arrive around twilight (because we always get lost and it takes us that long to find the place). But the light at that time of day is divine and magical, perfect for taking photos. And the sense of calm and peacefulness that comes over me is hard to describe but it makes me feel very connected to those buried around me, to the vibration of the trees and to the cycle of life.
The whole place is stunning, with a HUGE line of stately maples that command your attention. I think of them as the sentinels or guardians of this sacred spot. I feel as though I must confirm to them that my intentions there are honorable and that I will show the living and the dead all due respect. Then if you make it past them, you are rewarded with one of the most incredible views in Vermont. The back of the graveyard sits high on a hill and overlooks the valley below. And on the horizon, just past the quintessential red barn, on the other side of the vale....are the glorious hills, dotted with a kaleidoscope of colors that signal the reign of the Autumn Queen.
The day I took this photo....the sun had already begun it's descent for the day, as dusk came calling....and you can see the last bastion of sun rays hitting the top of the hill, illuminating the brilliant fall foliage. It was really an incredible display, and I was grateful to be there to capture it on film. This is indeed my Autumn Place, and I should very much like to be the resident caretaker of these Golden Burial Grounds.
Now the first time we arrived in Peacham, we chose to go down the hill first, and as the road wound around the bend, it delivered us to a very small, but very old graveyard. I hopped out to get a better look at the headstones that were old, weathered and in varying states of disrepair. That's when I saw the one below....1796! Wow...that's pretty darn old. And it got me to thinking on the fact that this Autumn Place here where I now stand in awe....was inhabited over 2oo years ago, that is 'recorded' via grave marker....and doubtlessly long before that by other indigenous folks.

But this is New England, and it's the beginning of October, absolutely stunningly gorgeous with the trees ablaze with color....but the air is cold already. My fingers are freezing and stiff as I grapple with my heavy camera, the shrill wind is causing my eyes to water and this lil' Florida girl is freezing her butt off and it's only October. No snow yet. No Northeastern snow storm blowing through and banking up against the houses and snowing in these tiny little roads.

How on earth did these early settlers survive up here without heaters and automobiles and snowplows? My mind wanders aimlessly trying to imagine them bunked up in their houses that are surely cold everywhere except in front of the hearth. What did they do to keep themselves busy without electricity and computers and automobiles and a camera?! As much as I love it here....and I do SO much.....I decide that being locked indoors for months at a time might very well drive me stark raving mad. Actually, an artist probably would fare better than most in that situation....he/she could at least draw, write, sing and create. But still....I cannot even fathom that way of life in today's age of technology and 24/7 communication. How long did they go before even seeing another neighbor? And with so few people in a place as far out as this....how did they even find mates back then? I have to assume the pickin's were rather slim...ha!

Graveyards do this to me...they take me on a journey of inquiries into another time, trying to understand the lives of those people who lie buried beneath the headstones. People that maybe no one else even remembers now. Time may have forgotten them....but not me! When I see their final resting place, I am reverent and I remember them, even if only in my imagination.