Into the Mystic?

INTO THE MYSTIC?

Lower Mystic Cemetery in Mystic, Connecticut

I first visited this cemetery back in April 2014. As a taphophile, a lover of cemeteries and all that is related, I had spied this one from the passenger seat as we sped past headed to the historic seaport town of Mystic. I told my husband that we were going to stop on the drive back to Groton...or else.

 I have a 'thing' for old cemeteries and I just KNEW this one had some interesting stones and maybe a mystery or two. After all, I had high hopes for a cemetery with "mystic" in its name!

I first saw the old stone well when I was strolling toward the center of the cemetery. It stood in a large area unmarked by trees, shrubs or headstones for that matter. It looked odd and a bit out of place. I mean, how often do you really see a big well like this in a cemetery?

 As I walked closer, I noticed that it had an old metal handle that looked as if it was still operable. Should I? I have seen PLENTY of horror movies when the innocent chick gets axed because she's more nosy then needed. The curious cat gets the...how does that go? Oh yeah. Curiosity killed the cat.

Great.

I had to try the handle though. I couldn't help but look over my shoulder. It felt like I was on the movie set of "The Ring" or that old zombie film of all zombie films, "Night of the Living Dead"..

After my big adventure at the cemetery well, I continued my walk around. I saw many cracked headstones and markers with anchors carved on them. Since this area was on the coast, I knew I would find some burials of old fishermen, sailors and salty sea captains. The cemetery was well kept and I wish I could have spent more time. This cemetery had stories to be told. It's on my list of places to re visit the next time I am in Connecticut.

Hopefully when I crank the old stone well on my next adventure to Mystic, I will remain unscathed from any horror flick creature crawling up from the watery depths. The human imagination is a powerful tool, isn't it? My real hope is to catch the caretaker while he is tending to the grounds. I would LOVE to know the rest of the story!

 Would YOU crank the handle??

Cemeteries in the Snow

Here the dead sleep – the quiet dead. 

 No sound

Disturbs them ever, 

and no storm dismays.

Winter mid snow caresses the tired ground,

And the wind roars about the woodland ways.

Springtime and summer and red autumn pass,

With leaf and bloom and pipe of wind and bird,

And the old earth puts forth her tender grass,

By them unfelt, unheeded and unheard.

Our centuries to them are but as strokes

In the dim gaunt of some far-off chime.

                                       

                                    ~ Archibald Lampman

Cemeteries in the snow. Utter silence but for the crunching of the white snow underfoot.  I enjoy walking  through these silent cities of the dead. The snow lies upon various tombs and monuments adding a new dimension to the stauary's stance.

Walking in the stillness of an old cemetery gives you time to reflect on life as you gaze upon the many who passed before us.

Old stones lie tumbled and crooked with pieces missing 

In winter’s months when all is bare

No flowers to distract looking eyes

We see the gravestones wearing away

And the remainder of unfinished good-byes

New tree growth next to old stones can cause them to be buckled upward

President McKinley's Monument standing silently in guard over the cemetery

The mists swirl, the moon shines bright.

No one dares stray here.

They would never desire to,

Unless the earth covers what they hold dear.

I watch as nature masks herself In flakes of snow that leap and twirl

They fall in endless chaos

Hiding her unveiled cruelty. The stones bear the weight of snow and ice

Graves covered in pure white snow as if a cloud from heaven had descended and shrouded the stones in a ethereal blanket.

Take time out to visit a cemetery in the early months of the new year. 

Walk gently, dress warmly and take a camera. (and something hot to drink!)

Until next time, Sherri  

www.HauntedHistory.net