Today I had to go to Marlborough and decided to let the GPS drag me down some back roads. I am so happy I chose to do this instead of going the way I knew! I ended up on a dirt road in the middle of nowhere (which is always a nice thing for me) and when I passed a cemetery that looked like it was full of old slate stones I couldn’t resist. Oh! This cemetery had the most character of any slate graveyard I have been in! Whoever was carving those old stones must have had quite the personality! I got to see all the usual designs – cherubs, urns, weeping willows, but with so much added extra flair it was unbelievable. Odd swoops and swirls, intricate geometric designs, and even one which had a 3-D face. Totally bizarre! But how wonderful!
To add to my joy there was a perfect view of Mount Monadknock from here, a ton of adorable mushrooms springing up, the largest Old School outdoor crypt I have seen in this area (with SEVEN rooms!) and adjoining the cemetery there was the ruins of the old meeting house and the crumbling foundation of the town pound, which I must say was also enormous, historically speaking. Marlborough must have been an epicenter at some point. I was amazed. It’s a tiny town today, mostly populated by trees – so much so my GPS wanted to get me home on an old logging road. I denied this. Didn’t want to die up there. In any event this was a happy little detour for me and my poor mother who I was dragging along for the ride. I made sure to buy her an ice cream afterwards, a belated birthday celebration…. ice cream and a cemetery…. We’re an odd bunch.
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I was trying to photograph the old covered bridge in Ashuelot but there were a ton of people parked there so I decided to go up a nearby side road and meander for a while letting the people clear out. I think it was Old Hinsdale Road. Not far up I stumbled upon small cemetery behind a white picket fence. I had been aching to do some more cemeteries so I invited myself in.
There wasn’t too much here at first – a lot of run of the mill marble stones from the 1800’s, a lot with the name Wood (perhaps a family cemetery?) It was situated right smack dab between two houses and I was a little uncomfortable as I walked about. I didn’t want to be disturbing anyone living or dead. That’s when right in front of one of the houses I came across some of the most gorgeous 5 foot tall slate stones I had seen in a LONG time. If you’ve been reading this blog you’ll know slate stones are where my heart lies. Oh, the artistry! It was beautiful!
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The Laurel Hill Cemetery was one of those “destined to be” sort of places. We were winding our way from the abandoned power plant to the Bancroft Castle when the GPS decided to take us down an odd route that happened to go directly by an oddly situated cemetery. The cemetery was on a very steep hill, mostly hidden from sight. It was worth a looksee so up we went!
This was Fitchburg so you never know what you’re going to find… it was a toss of the coin whether or not we’d find a terrific place for a drug deal or a beautiful local secret. Luckily it was the latter. We even met two women up there who were archiving the stones. It had taken them eight years of twice weekly trips to archive several thousand stones and they were maybe two thirds done. They had told us this place was virtually abandoned until recent efforts to clean it up and now people were coming up here to party and ruining things. Annoying. The view from the top was breath taking. From the edge of the hill you could see the older part of the cemetery sprawled out below with a stunning overlook of the city of Fitchburg, even a mountain in the background. Hey if I were to die and be forced to stare at one view for the rest of eternity I can’t say I’d have many complaints about this one. It showed Fitchburg nestled between trees looking soooo…. innocent. And so much like New England. It was a very happy discovery! And one which will have to be revisited when the trees turn color in the fall.
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Yesterday I got the wonderful opportunity to go to a farm in Northfield MA and take a bunch of adorable photos of cows, goats, and Vizlas. It was an amazing experience. Totally worth the sunburn! Afterwards I decided I was in the area anyway, might as well drive around…
I turned off my GPS and took my own instruction, turning down any road I thought might turn into a lingering dirt road. I was immensely rewarded. This are was in the middle of nowhere, a bubble of pristine wilderness between civilization. These roads brought deeper and deeper into the forest and farther from any kind of settlement. It went from houses to hunting camps to absolutely nothing. And then I found a derelict of some sort aside the road. No one was around for miles so I decided what the hell, let’s take a few black and white snaps and maybe poke around a bit. It was a shed, an ordinary shed, filled with ordinary crap you’d normally find in a shed but clearly abandoned for many many years and bizarrely not near any house anywhere. I was slightly concerned I might find a hobo in there but I didn’t, instead I stumbled upon something that made my whole week – it was a river just behind the shed. I decided to explore. I knew this was probably someone’s property but they’d never know and I wouldn’t go far…
This river was only a few inches deep and easy to climb across. There were all sorts of rocks and fallen trees and it was just absolutely gorgeous. Being as it was a VERY hot day it was a wonderful detour as I splashed about and cooled down. The lighting was just right and it threw dappled reflections of the water back onto the trees. It seemed that no matter where I looked there was something even more beautiful with the next blink of my eyes. I must admit I stayed down there playing in the river for quite a while! In that whole time not a single car drove by. In fact upon leaving I didn’t pass any other cars for the many miles it took to get away from this decidedly gorgeous forest.
Eventually I found civilization again and found myself staring into a cemetery. Well, I couldn’t just drive by… so I stopped in. I have no idea what the title of the cemetery was but it was small, had very ordinary marble stones, most from the late 1800’s and was fairly unremarkable except for the gorgeous view of a mountain behind it. As I was driving out I noticed one monument at the entrance and for whatever reason I read it… Somehow I had stumbled upon the grave of a man of science who died in the late 1800’s and was responsible for finding dinosaur footprints in the nearby area. Dinosaur footprints?? I had no idea there were any… and I was super into fossils growing up! Shocked and delighted I wanted to know more. Google said there were more around but where I could see them remained a local mystery. I drove around at random but didn’t find any parks or trails as I went along. Pity. I would have totally found one…
From there I ended up driving by a jungle of some sort so of course I had to pull over and take a few shots of what I can only describe as a sight more befitting of Georgia than New England.
And upon entering Rindge again I decided to stop by yet another lake to take this pretty little snap as well… All and all it was a wonderful day filled with a lot of happy surprises!
***I apologize for any missing photos and galleries as I continue to work getting Catching Marbles fully migrated to a new host. Please come back soon for restored photos and thank you for your patience!***
If you are enjoying Catching Marbles please consider adding a dollar or two to my limited gas money fund so I can continue going on adventures and sharing them with you! Thank you!
I apologize for taking so long to update this blog after the fact but it’s just been a whirlwind! Followed by three days with a migraine that had me within inches of scooping out my own sinuses with a sharpened spoon… but I am back! And in full swing!
Last Sunday I found myself in Deering NH working on yet another project of mine (this time expanding my photographic chops.) It went well and I met some really nice people along the way and even learned a new bit of superstition. Apparently if pennies are found in old houses, tales side up, it’s supposed to be good luck left by whoever is haunting the place, preferably your ancestors. I have known pennies have a special place in our strange New England mythology but this was new to me!
I was told the Franklin Pierce Homestead was nearby and I figured it might be fun to drive by. Franklin Pierce used to be the worst president ever… in fact in New Hampshire our schools teach us, “Franklin Pierce was the only president from the state of New Hampshire.” Then they stop talking about him. Can you blame us if we swept him under the rug? Still, it seems as if he wasn’t a bad guy, in fact he was a very likable fellow…. he just would have been utilized better in a job that didn’t require politics… and who is to say his homestead wouldn’t be kick ass? You never know!
I drove down the road and was distracted by a cemetery. It happens. There was no parking as it was an old cemetery, not many new stones to speak of, and cars probably weren’t considered in its location. I parked aside the road in a little ditch I found and headed in. Turns out this was the Appleton Cemetery of Deering NH which seemed to have mostly stones from the late 1800’s. It was fairly small and none of the monuments took my breath away at first but it was still a lovely jaunt in the summer air. And I did find some stones which had an interesting collection of moss growing on them which harvested their own sort of beauty. As I explored further I found some oddly carved stones, even one which seemed to be signed??
I got a call just about then, from a friend claiming to be in the area. Can she drop by in half an hour? OK… but I don’t know where I am going from here! I wandered back into the cemetery and found a stone with flowers growing next to it. This was weird as it was the only stone to have live flowers anywhere near it. It didn’t appear anyone was still visiting this place – certainly not long enough to plant flowers. I decided to use the opportunity to take a few tinted shots from an odd perspective. I had the time, why not? After sharing this image with a few history buffs I was given this delightful link on the 17th Maine Infantry. I can’t say I have spent much time thinking about the Civil War in regards to Maine. I mean really, why bother fighting it if you’re living in Maine, which is as far from the conflict as you could possibly get! But hey, got to hand it to them, they were there, marching with the rest of the North. Good for them!
I waited in the cemetery for two hours. I called and texted my friend to no avail. This was a nice cemetery but not that nice. I left. This time I decided to meander down a few completely random roads nearby. I am always so happy to do this because the views you can find just lollygagging about can be spectacular! I was not disappointed! Just look at this roadside shot of a typical New England stone wall edged with flowers, trees, and a mountain in the background. This was someone’s farm. Another car creeped slowly by probably wondering what I was doing just parked there with my camera. Sorry!
And then I turned and started to meander down another long dirt road where I was delighted to find a big sign in the middle of nowhere directing me to a trail probably no one’s heard about. It was the Deering Audubon Society’s Wildlife Sanctuary. I was still pretty annoyed so I set off into the woods at quite a clip, didn’t look at the map. Who looks at maps? Certainly not me!
Roadside View – Deering NH
It was a pretty rough trail in the sense I don’t think anyone had been by to keep it cleared aside from some deer. Ferns grew over the path in several sections and for quite a while it seemed.. unspectacular. That is until it turned direction and led me past this gorgeous pond. I tried to snap a few photos but then after just a few shots my camera’s battery died. With the camera dead I realized I didn’t get my characteristic marble shot. I couldn’t live with that so I took out my broken cell phone and took this oddly awesome photo which totally looks like it’s supposed to be all hazy! I sat for another hour on this rock, just enjoying the gentle breeze coming in off the water and listening to the song birds. It was amazingly peaceful. I calmed down. A full three and half hours from when I got the first phone call I got a second, “Where are you?” “Fuck if I know. Not like I have an address.” I headed back down the trail thinking it was probably a loop trail and the car couldn’t be much further but by now it was getting dark and I hit an intersection which literally pointed the trail in three different directions. I could have just guessed… hoped for the best… and I probably would have if I wasn’t trying to get back to the car before they found me. Instead I went back up the path where I came, probably doing the majority of it twice, this time at an even faster clip and in squelching heat. I was a sopping mess and exited the forest just as they drove up…
If you are enjoying Catching Marbles please consider adding a dollar or two to my limited gas money fund so I can continue going on adventures and sharing them with you! Thank you!
Evergreen Cemetery had eluded me previously. Little was I to know I had made it here once but I came in through the upper gate which wasn’t labelled with the cemetery’s name. Even funnier still I was within eye shot of the stone I was looking for that day and had no idea. Today I went with a few “before you go” tips.
I wanted to find the stone of Joseph Palmer who was a man after my own heart. He died in 1873, with great humor. He ordered a stone to be carved in his likeness with the epitaph, “Persecuted for wearing the beard.” Apparently in his day and age men didn’t wear beards in New England, especially ones with any status. It was considered brutish, unclean, and the men who did wear beards tended to be the same people we liked to harass at the time – minorities like the tiny Jewish population that was probably somewhere (in the cities perhaps?) The church wasn’t any happier with his dogged insistence on facial hair than the community was and he was harassed here too. When the local pastor asked rather unkindly why he didn’t shave Palmer replied, “… Jesus wore a beard not unlike mine.” which has to be the best answer ever, if not the reason he was eventually excommunicated from the church.
In May 1830 things got even worse when he was attacked in the streets of Fitchburg by four men armed with scissors and razors who had plotted to shave the beard off themselves. They hadn’t realized they’d be in for the fight of their lives. The old farmer wasn’t terribly patient with such things and he pulled out a knife and began slashing, wounding two of the four assailants. To add insult to injury he found himself arrested after this for “unprovoked assault,” known today as self defense. He was found guilty and fined by Judge David Brigham. Palmer refused on principle to cough up $750 for his fine, court fees, and bond, and was sent to prison for fifteen months.
Prison life didn’t treat him any better than the outside world. Other prisoners continued to try and shave off his beard and prison officials kept coming up with increasingly cruel and sadistic punishments for him. He kept a detailed journal of the whole charade and eventually left…. beard in tact and free… if not with a slightly bruised ego. He only gained his freedom by paying his $10 fine after the judge who sent him to prison begged him to.
His life after that got even more interesting as he befriended many intellectuals and writers of the day. He even ended up being the basis of the character Moses White in Louisa May Alcott’s Transcendental Wild Oats. In 1843 he even joined a commune called the Fruitlands Experiment and when that failed he even tried to run his own commune later in life. He remained active in politics, religious reform, abolitionism, and of course beard activism until the day he died — which funny enough was the same era where beards had once again become fashionable. So now you know the twisted and strange story of Joseph Palmer.
I must admit the cemetery Joseph Palmer is buried in is gorgeous. Clearly people of great wealth had been buried here for quite some time. I spent a few hours walking and snapping photos of the angels and Cherubs who decorated many stones. Another stone of interest was found in the new part of the cemetery where a woman had been buried with her beloved pet cat Dr Pepper.
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This took three tries (and I have no justifiable defense for this) to find the lollipop cemetery which was set up by Shakers who for whatever reason decided that grave stones should be made of cast iron lollipops. They were a weird bunch.
There’s a trail nearby that might go behind these places but I ran out of time (with the sun setting and all.) Instead I was overjoyed to find there were ruins just up the road of an old Shaker church. Also viewable from the road was what used to be their living quarters, a HUGE house now privately owned which I would not be surprised to find out has twenty or thirty rooms… I mean seriously, that’s practically a castle. I felt weird snapping a photo of this house as it was private property but I didn’t hesitate to take a few snaps of the ruins and the graveyard.
If you are enjoying Catching Marbles please consider adding a dollar or two to my limited gas money fund so I can continue going on adventures and sharing them with you! Thank you!
Yet again I set out to go to one cemetery and ended up at another. I can find obscure paths with no markers, historical landmarks no one has ever heard of, cool places guarded by whispering locals, but ask me to find a cemetery, any cemetery what-so-ever and I will find a different one! That’s OK. They’re all beautiful in their own ways. The confusion came from the fact there is both a Lowell City Cemetery (which I ended up at first) and a Lowell Cemetery which has the ever gorgeous Ayer Lion who I like to visit from time to time.
Seeing as I was already at the Lowell City Cemetery I decided to take a quick peak. An enormous monument of an elk had caught my eye as well as an equally enormous statue of a Native American which I couldn’t fathom why it existed in a rich white man’s cemetery. Turns out the Indian was Aspinquid, Chief of the Penacook Indians. Looks like he must have impressed someone… but I am not so certain his age marker of 122 years old at death is correct.
After that little detour I finally arrived back at the correct cemetery, the Lowell Cemetery, where the famous Ayer Lion resides. He’s the saddest lion you will ever meet – carved life size in marble he can melt the heart of anyone who gazes upon his sorrowful face or his retiring paws. I have admired him for years, occasionally stopping in to say hi, and respected him just for the sheer fine art aspect of this monument. The artist who carved him put so much attention to detail that he even got the skin flap between the legs and body completely life-like. I know it sounds strange but I always feel like consoling the poor beast with a hug, as if he were somehow real. He’s garnered much attention over the years, as have a few other monuments like “Witch Bonney” who was never a witch and I am not even sure was named Bonney. One of New England’s favorite past times has been to make up scary bullshit stories to scare our children. That was one of them…
***I apologize for any missing photos and galleries as I continue to work getting Catching Marbles fully migrated to a new host. Please come back soon for restored photos and thank you for your patience!***
If you are enjoying Catching Marbles please consider adding a dollar or two to my limited gas money fund so I can continue going on adventures and sharing them with you! Thank you!
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BONUS! There’s a tiny park just a little ways away from the cemetery which is what I can only call a swamp with a few tables. Totally worth checking out if only for the fact you can say, “I’ve been to a swamp park and befriended some amorous bullfrogs!” I know what you’re thinking and no, none of them turned out to be princes.
I apologize for the lateness of this post considering I went here last Thursday! But that led to forty eight hours of being awake which I paid for dearly with three days worth of a migraine… and here I am, back to tell the story without barfing, so it’s all good! And even with that little set back this was a great find that I found by happenstance.
Initially I had gone to a small town I had never heard of – Harvard, to find a cemetery. As with every entry I have written on cemeteries I did not find it. Instead I grabbed a friend living nearby and said, “Let’s drive!” My intent was to pick a series of roads neither one of us were familiar with… and to visit the next cemetery we came across because why not? It was raining, cold, and miserable, but I was overjoyed to find a cemetery near the school that had some old slate stones with a series of unusual designs on them. Generally speaking slate stones are very plain, while they do sometimes have designs, doodles and geometric insignia are more than a bit odd. Clearly this artist was marching to the beat of his own drum.
And then I came across something truly peculiar – a set of two slate stones that looked like they had been put up yesterday. As it turns out they were dated to 1900. This is very weird considering slate stones were used in the 1700’s. And yet here they were, more than 100 years past the time they should have been put up – with the same classic designs on them. Makes me wonder.
From the cemetery we drove down some rural road that went on for miles past farms and woodlands alike. That’s when we came across this crazy house that looked like it was built by Pablo Picasso – doors jutted out at odd angles and windows were piled on top of each other to make a geometric jumble of strange. I literally turned around so I could stop and take this photo of this poor unsuspecting house.
We continued to drive. I had decided at some point we were close enough to Clinton to check out an abandoned train tunnel but this was merely a suggestion. In all honesty I was in it for the drive today – which I desperately needed.
“You’ve got to see the dam!”
“OK, where’s the dam?”
“You can see it from the road, we’re near it.”
“Wait, there’s parking spaces… let’s walk.”
And that’s how I found myself at the Wachussett Dam. There is indeed a tiny parking lot adjoining the road and it belongs to what is now a park. You must climb down A LOT of stairs but it’ll take you to the bottom of the dam where an old gorgeous water works building is, as well as a fountain, and what looks like a nice bike path for a less rainy day. I was having a ton of fun photographing this place… too much in fact. We were kicked out by a park ranger, sort of… he said we were free to stay if we didn’t mind heaving ourselves over the gate he was closing. I wouldn’t mind. My friend was less than athletic sooo…. we just said thank you and ambled back up those 300 steps. The ranger was a super nice guy though. He told us all about the history of the place. Apparently five towns had to be taken down and resettled so the area could be flooded. This was a water reservoir that fed all of Boston, including the more famous Quabbin water reservoir. I had NO IDEA. Also the water works down below shut down in the 40’s but before that it produced electricity for the town – and pretty much all the equipment to do that was built into the building back in those days which meant it was still there. Maybe during my next visit I will peek in the windows!
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From the Dam we ended up going back on the road and driving randomly until we hit a shop that sold grave stones. Some of their wares were in the parking lot and I found this the perfect opportunity to take a few creepy snaps… in the rain…. in the dusk…. of some gravestones. My only advice, don’t blink!
Today was a day of blunders… I had to go to the DMV so I decided what the hell let’s go to a weird DMV and make it an excuse to go on a day trip. So I looked up interesting places to go in Milford NH. Came up with a few things but two caught my attention. The first was a cemetery where a woman was buried with what one might consider the longest diatribe ever written onto a stone – a long blathering story chuck full of probably made up drama about how her local church murdered her and such, put up by her apparently equally insane husband. I mean inscribing this thing must have taken a fortune and I don’t even think there’s any relevant information on it (like date of birth and death…)
Sadly, just like the other times I have tried to find an old cemetery I ended up at the wrong one… even worse I could not find a name for the one I did end up strolling through, all I can say is it was on Union Street in Milford. Unlike previous cemeteries this one really looked like it’d been through the wringers. The stones were mostly from the 1800’s but they were almost all marble and in a damp and somewhat shady setting which made them erode and decay far faster than they should have. Here letters wore completely away leaving nothing of a whisper of what had once been. However some were intricately carved and therefore merited me snapping photos… so I took a few.
After this I wandered off to go find what I heard was one of New England’s hidden treasures – the Monson Center, otherwise known as a preserved ghost town dating back to the 1700’s. I had driven through a number of abandoned mining towns in previous years but those were out west and seemingly more recent. I didn’t really know what to expect of this place. All I knew was that it’d be exceedingly difficult to find. So I drove up and down the entirety of Federal Hill Road twice trying to find it and let me tell you, that is a long road! It starts paved, has a long dirt middle, and ends paved. The Monson Center looks like a ditch to anyone driving by. It’s a little after the road turns to pavement and right next to “Adam’s Road” which my GPS did not register (and it looked like a driveway to boot.) There were two random parking lots here in the woods right at the Hollis town line. The entrance was just a bar gate, the sort of thing you see keeping hikers off of pastureland and private properties. I parked not knowing if the parking lot was even public. Nothing was marked.
From here I started on down the trail and before I knew it a couple of signs emerged – a welcome and a map. OK, so I am in the right place but still feeling a bit weird. There was no one else around and the more I walked the more this seemed like a driveway. The forest opened up and there before us was a timeless pastoral scene. Stone walls bordered the drive and beyond them were crisp clean cut pastures, up ahead a tiny 1700’s farmhouse with a car parked next to it. I felt like I had died and gone to heaven. The scenery instantly put me at a deep ease. It felt ancestral. It felt somehow just right. I wanted to live here! It was so quiet and peaceful! Still the house threw me. Is this someone’s property? Did I get lost again?? As it turns out I did not. The house serves as a museum and welcome center of sorts. It holds a number of artifacts and the man who owns the place is all the happier to explain them to you. The house is really small but very typical of a house from that period. I was loving it. The old man there even showed us a picture of a ghost. My young eyes just saw some dude wearing vibrantly colored Western wear reflected in the glass, camera and all, but I didn’t feel the need to kill the dream…
Outside of the house there’s a number of trails that lead you through the woods and back in time. The main path was once a road going straight through the center of this now extinct village. There’s no houses left but a few scraps of foundation lie here and there behind neat little plaques. There was something about these paths that was so dreamy and whimsical. It felt downright magical. I was so happy just to be walking through the trees, past the stone walls I had seen in every other corner of New England. The path led to a rookery and beaver dam, which is a very polite was of saying swamp. Even here I was inexplicably happy. The heron nests were easy to see but the birds must have been off foraging. Atop one of the two beaver lodges a daft Canadian goose sat on some eggs. benches were placed strategically throughout the property and I could have while away The whole day sitting on any of them, even here in the swamp!
This was not a particularly difficult path and it did not have anything terribly unusual about it… but for some reason it immediately became a new favorite place. I have every intention of going back now I know where it is!
Today I had to go to Marlborough and decided to let the GPS drag me down some back roads. I am so happy I chose to do this instead of going the way I knew! I ended up on a dirt road in the middle of nowhere (which is always a nice thing for me) and when I passed a cemetery that looked like it was full of old slate stones I couldn’t resist. Oh! This cemetery had the most character of any slate graveyard I have been in! Whoever was carving those old stones must have had quite the personality! I got to see all the usual designs – cherubs, urns, weeping willows, but with so much added extra flair it was unbelievable. Odd swoops and swirls, intricate geometric designs, and even one which had a 3-D face. Totally bizarre! But how wonderful!
winding our way from the 
Yesterday I got the wonderful opportunity to go to a farm in Northfield MA and take a bunch of adorable photos of cows, goats, and Vizlas. It was an amazing experience. Totally worth the sunburn! Afterwards I decided I was in the area anyway, might as well drive around…
aside the road. No one was around for miles so I decided what the hell, let’s take a few black and white snaps and maybe poke around a bit. It was a shed, an ordinary shed, filled with ordinary crap you’d normally find in a shed but clearly abandoned for many many years and bizarrely not near any house anywhere. I was slightly concerned I might find a hobo in there but I didn’t, instead I stumbled upon something that made my whole week – it was a river just behind the shed. I decided to explore. I knew this was probably someone’s property but they’d never know and I wouldn’t go far…
