Alright! Having been sufficiently engaged with the Pleasant View Cemetery I was all ready to go find a hiking trial… one that was a little more user friendly than the last one I tried! It didn’t take long before I stumbled onto the Mason Rail Trail.
I was a little disappointed. I wanted something a little less… popular… but it probably was a good thing I ended up here. I am hideously out of shape and the rail trails and nice and flat! And go on for miles! And since it was later on in the day there weren’t too many people, although more than I would have liked considering quarantine and whatnot. However, there were few enough of us to really spread out and even so one older couple had masks (so did I, matching my orange hair of course.)
I was happy to note there was not only a bunch of cyclists but also much evidence of horses along the trail. Rail trails are lovely places to go out riding if you are so inclined.
Today’s trail seemed very polite, it even had signs warning of washed out areas! And the people all seemed in a great mood. It was the perfect weather to be out – cloudy and 66 degrees. I walked at a fast clip trying to get myself a decent work out. A cyclist noticing my camera told me that if I walked in the opposite direction, across the road, I would come to a little swampy area where an “oblivious pileated woodpecker” lives. I had to laugh. Thanks for the heads up!
I walked for about 45 minutes before getting winded and deciding to find a place to sit. This turned out to be on a little detour off the mail rail trail where I found a rock to sit and listen to people going by overhead. That was kind of amazing in it’s own way. Most had no idea I was there, though one guy took a double take at something colorful in the woods and upon seeing what it was, or rather who, he smiled and laughed. I know these little interactions are brief and meaningless but they pick up my spirits. I like to know that my mere existence can make a stranger smile. I sat for quite some time enjoying this little serene spot before heading back at a leisurely pace. Rail Trails are wonderful for late day hikes because they are very wide and straight and literally impossible to get lost on so if you get caught out there after dark – no bigs! You’ll still get back to the car just fine! And I did… and I was the last car to leave the parking lot…
If you would like to check out this trail please know the Uncle Sam House (and adjoining trail) are also right up the road!
As I was driving around aimlessly looking for a hiking trail I was distracted by a sweet little cemetery on a hill. It had a little brick crypt (fancy!) and even an iron gate reading “1790.” Well, that’s all I needed… I’m in! I parked the car aside the road and grabbed my camera.
This was a well manicured cemetery but it was clearly old and out of use. I didn’t see any stones past the mid 1800’s. The vast majority of them were slate with the usual decals and a few oddities. If you read this blog often you know I have a deep fondness for slate stones but today my attention was drawn to the few marble memorials that were sitting near the gate. One was a little lamb, dedicated to a toddler. It’s always sad seeing these but the marble lambs age so interestingly. This one was completely intact (frequently the lambs loose their heads or ears) and was covered in lichen. Little spooky, nice for an artsy photo, and then I saw the big memorials behind it. One was of an open book, again so covered in lichen it was unreadable, and next to the book on alter was one of the most heart-stopping and unique memorials I have ever seen. It belonged to a boy named Johnnie whose bust I can only assume it was, lying as if asleep, forever immortalized in marble. It evoked a profound sense of grief and sympathy for the loss of a child. I was unable to track down any information on the poor soul but his stone reads:
HERE LIES THE REMAINS OF THE BELOVED CHILD OF J.&.E. HARTNOLL JOHNNIE A. BORN IN DEVONSHIRE ENGLAND MAY 11 1868 DIED IN MASON N.H. JULY 14 1878 AT REST
The other notable stone was on the opposite side of the cemetery and was where the remains of the first president of Harvard college Henry Dunster was laid to rest. There are also a number of revolutionary war soldiers here, mostly fatalities from Bunker Hill. Oddly no one left pennies on their graves. I take it this place is not visited often.
However if you’re into history the Uncle Sam house is less than a mile away. And on this day I decided to close out my day by enjoying the Mason Rail Trail nearby.
My life’s a mess and the world’s on fire – which means it’s high time for a happy distraction. Why not a hike? In the woods? With trees? They’re good people, those trees. Never said anything bad about anyone and sometimes… I just need this. I think we all do. So I hopped into the car and drove in a random direction.
I ended up winding down a series of lovely dirt roads which seemed for the most part completely unpopulated except for the odd historical barn and or farmhouse. It was like going back into time out there… and I was loving every second of it. I’ve been going through a Classic Rock phase lately and was blaring anthems from the 1960’s. Maybe it’s just comforting to listen to knowing the state of things today. I don’t know, but I was looking for a trail as I was groovin’ along and it didn’t take long before I found something that looked promising. It was an unmarked trail in the middle of nowhere guarded by rock slabs. I pulled over and asked my phone where I was (because my GPS seemed to have no idea.)
Did you know you can just Google “Where am I?” and the damn phone will actually tell you?! Just like that! The wonders of technology! But yes, I was at 1590 Greenville Road Ashby MA.
It was quiet here, not a soul in sight, the perfect place for a socially distanced little stroll through the forest. Immediately upon stepping on the trail I saw two other trails branching off the main trail. Hmmm. And there were tree branches cut everywhere. Clearly someone was trying to keep this place maintained but… there were no trail markers and not 100 feet up the main line I came to a 4-way Y. Now what?! I walked straight, or at least the closest thing I could to straight but the path seemingly ended not far from there OR wound off to the left which looked super hairy. I then walked back to the 4-way impasse and chose to take the farthest left trail. MAYBE if I just keep taking lefts I will just have to take a bunch of rights to get back to the car, right? Theoretically… but this place was godawful. The trail kept winding in every direction with other trails constantly branching off in other Y’s. Nothing was marked AT ALL. This was like navigating my way through someone’s arteries. I couldn’t have been more than an eighth of a mile from the car but I called it quits. I just didn’t want to die lost in the woods today. Sorry. This was literally the worst trail I have ever been on as far as being a rat’s nest of options. It’s a GREAT place if you really do want to get hopelessly lost or perhaps have a body to unburden yourself of… otherwise I do NOT suggest this trail to anyone!
How is everyone out there today? Chomping at the bit and going a little stir crazy? Yeah, me too. I’ve been working super hard on my writing and have been churning out one novel length manuscript a month since January but this sedentary life has not done anything good for my body. Time for some exercise and a little fresh air!
Since the Stay-at-Home orders were put in place a lot of the more popular hiking destinations were forcibly closed because too many people were gathering there. Now they are thinking about opening them back up again which is a horrendous idea. Please people, keep yourself and others safe there are a TON of hiking options that are far less populated! And it’ll be those destinations I will be bringing you along as we hit these warmer months.
Today I asked if my mother if she needed a little time out of the house and when she said yes I hopped into the car and just started driving. I had no destination actually planned. For me it’s fun to just drive in a random direction and let the Universe guide me to wherever it is I am to go. That’s how I ended up in Greenville NH, a town I’d never heard of, taking up the single parking space outside of an obvious trail that looked like it might have been a road once. I had no idea where I was and my GPS decided to take that moment to croak. Luckily I googled, “Where am I??” and my phone answered thusly:
The trail didn’t seem to have a name or anything like that but there were a few signs up saying it was not for “wheeled vehicles” which I don’t think the locals took very seriously because there were tracks from bicycles, dirt bikes, and probably a four-wheeler or two… These were clearly visible because HOLY MUD! It was just flooded!
It’s been an unusually wet spring. I guess I will start travelling with my trusty galoshes… Despite the mud this path was gorgeous at the beginning. Cascades of tiny droplets were coming through the mossy rocks and twinkling in the noonday sun. It was actually kind of magical. I wish I was able to get better photos of this but I am 100% inexperienced taking photos of droplets and apparently it is very hard to catch those little buggars! Clearly I needed to change the speed of my camera’s shutter or something… but I guess that’s a lesson for another day when I am not towing my mother behind me while standing ankle deep in mud.
The rocky outcropping was to both sides of the trail and had a lot of trees growing out of it allowing for some pretty gnarly roots and terrific scenes of erosion as a few toppled down the embankment. There was even a few pieces of graffiti hidden in some of the rocks going back to ’89!
We didn’t walk too far before the trail just ended at what looked like maybe piece of bridge? Luckily the path was to either side of the road where I parked so we just went back and took the low side. It was a brisk walk from there that passed one house and had signs reading “gate ahead” but we never found a gate as I tuckered my poor mother out and we had to head back. It was a nice little jaunt, a well needed one at that. If you happen to live in the area I’d suggest checking it out, otherwise it’s a little muddy and the prettiest parts were literally at the beginning so I don’t think I’d suggest travelling too far to see it… but you know, it looks like a good option for an easy solo walk…
It’s funny. It seems I have been all over the place – this blog started when I went to all the lower 48 states, and then Europe, and then decided to explore all corners of New England, but what I haven’t done in all that time is pay any attention whatsoever to the town where I was raised and spent the majority of my life: Rindge NH. And what a perfect time to explore a deserted cemetery so close to home than when we’re all still being super cautious about the corona virus.
So that’s how I ended up in the center of Rindge at the Meetinghouse Cemetery. I parked at the church because I had a foggy recollection that there was a gap in the fence I could walk through at the corner of it. Indeed there is, as well as a proper entrance adjacent to the current town hall just down the street a little ways where the old crypt still stands. Parking at either is easy and doesn’t bother anyone.
I hadn’t visited this place since I was probably 12 or 13 years old and had a friend living nearby. We’d walked the cemetery and played in the town center – once giving the dog officer a hell of a scare as we bounded through the snow in the common on one particularly dark evening. But happy childhood memories aside, this is the heart of the historic parts of Rindge and it’s got a lot of stories to tell. And what a better day to tell them than on a rainy day like this?! The perfect activity for those of you going nuts in quarantine – no one walks through old cemeteries in the rain… well, except for me and a handful of other delightfully weird people.
I have to say I don’t remember this being the most hill-filled graveyard I have ever been too. WHEW! There was no effort whatsoever put into flattening the ground here but I must admit that adds to how dramatic it feels with slate stones dating back to the 1700’s and creepy barren trees on all sides. Still it was super peaceful and welcoming to the photographer in me. (Though people driving by absolutely did notice me there. Probably thought I was the Ghost of the 1970’s with my orange plaid bellbottoms.)
A Little About the Stones…
I’ve learned a few things over the years about these old graveyards and cemeteries. The first is the difference between a cemetery, which is just a generalized burial ground, and a graveyard which is the consecrated ground surrounding a church. The slate stones that were favored in the 1700’s were mostly mass produced in Boston. As such many have the same designs on them. Today I saw mostly Death Heads (a symbol of rebirth and resurrections) and weeping willows. As usual the stones closest to the church were both the oldest and frequently the most wealthy. You can tell by how large they are as they range from little more than a foot tall to five or six feet. People of wealth in those days often were tied to either religious institutions or the military. You can see several Minute Men buried here who usually have metal markers aside their grave.
Was there anyone of particular note residing here? I actually don’t know. I suspect there are a lot of people that were important to the town back in the day but this was a while ago. I didn’t see any stones that dated any younger than 1901. This… is a forgotten place.
Other Things to See Nearby
That being said there are a few other things to see nearby if you’re there anyway. Directly across the street is the ruins of an old foundation that used to be our old town shelter for both abused animals and battered women. This was not unusual as the Humane Society functioned more as peace officers for domestic abuse situations than they did as animal rescuers although they fulfilled both roles. How much of a need did we have for this little building I have no idea but suffice to say if you were in need you’d be kept there…
Not far from the ruined foundation there’s a tiny park dedicated to our veterans. There’s a few benches, a little memorial, some flags. From here you can look over the town common which used to be used as a livestock exchange and open air market. Today it holds a gazebo used for weddings and one of only two antique livestock scales left in New England which we proudly use every year for the great pumpkin weigh-off. So how big can a pumpkin get? apparently over 2,500 pounds… and let me tell you moving these giant orange beasts is a challenge. Worth coming out just to see that!
And so that’s my little town center. Thanks for stopping by to enjoy it with me. Below are five galleries of photos I took, organized by topic.
Gallery One: Super Dramatic Multiple Stone Photos
Gallery Two: Some Individual Stones
Gallery Three: Artsy Close Ups
Gallery Four: Other Things to See
This structure was used to house carriage horses during church services.
Well! It’s been a while since I gave a little love to this blog and if I am bluntly honest I wasn’t really planning on it today either… but then I realized I actually hadn’t said much about this little haunt of mine so I took out my cell phone camera and started snapping away. I NEEDED THIS TODAY!
If you’re anything like me you’re probably being a good little disease vector and staying home in quarantine while simultaneously crawling out of your own skin. I get it. I know I had a TON of plans for this blog this year. I was going to go to art galleries, bizarre museums no one has ever heard of, lots of festivals and county fairs, and even some odd things like a midnight showing of Rocky Horror which I am currently being threatened with. OK, so those are off the table… for now… but that doesn’t mean I can’t keep exploring, just means I’ll be exploring more obscure hiking trails and cemeteries… in New Hampshire…. because all the states around NH are starting to pull out-of-staters over. Vermont is fining them, Massachusetts is sending them home and Maine is demanding a two week quarantine before entering. It’s…hairy….out there.
That’s OK though! We can do this. We can go out and appreciate nature without coughing on anyone. Especially on these far less loved trails so how about it… here we go!
Today I walked a very familiar trail – the Betsy Foskett Trail in the Betsy Fosket Wildlife Bird Sanctuary- the entrance of which is located half-way up some dude’s driveway (the very last driveway on the Emerson Lane cul-de-sac) and is hidden from the road. It is however there and that half of the driveway is a right of way so don’t worry when you’re walking up, it’s right past the little bridge and impossible to miss.
The beginning of the trail was flooded today because we’ve had so much rain but I took the part of the trail that is next to the water and walked along there following the yellow markers until a little sign showed where the two paths diverged. From here I took the red path – Pond View Trail. It’s longer than the Betsy Fosket but crosses it again later on. Here I found the ruins of what I think was a house at some point and lots of lovely photo opportunities. I even found a nesting hole from a woodpecker and a beaver damn! Both new to me!
It’s an easy trail but I am fiercely out of shape at the moment and was having difficulty keeping up. So when I came across the entrance to the clearing where it crosses the Betsy Fosket Trail again I got off it. The clearing has all sorts of No Trespassing signs but the trail is still town property so ignore them. It will lead to the dam which is where I took a lovely rest before returning home via the Betsy Fosket. Where does the Pond View Trail end? I currently do not know… but I will investigate this further when my lungs aren’t burning.
I had a GREAT trip out and needed this little distraction so bad. I regret not taking my actual camera as I tried to only take a few snaps with my cell. My photographer’s brain was going completely nuts out there. It’s been WAY too long since I let it out to play.
Since I clearly need more exercise and exposure to nature this will not be the last you hear from me this year. Stay tuned and keep safe!
I can’t even begin to tell you how thrilled I was to get a chance to see the inside of the S K Pierce mansion! I have driven by it hundreds, maybe even thousands of times, and I always wondered what was in it. Of course before 1999 it was basically a giant derelict building only a few breaths away from being condemned. The roof was a sieve, the top floor was completely trashed from water damage, and pigeons had taken residence up there for years. And yet even in that state I still looked at in wonder – having both a weakness for Victorian houses and the broken. I didn’t know then it was haunted but the other townsfolk did… the place had a reputation!
Since then it has gone through three more sets of owners, throwing two into financial ruin trying to repair it. The current owners bought this 21 room fixer upper for a shockingly low $315,000 sight unseen because they wanted a haunted house. WELL. Careful what you wish for, this house seems to chew people up and spit them out… almost everyone whose ever owned it fell into complete financial ruin, at least two people died there, and there’s a rumor that a visiting artist went stark raving mad here – or at least that’s what his painting suggest as they get increasing disturbing over the years. In addition to this the house itself has a turbulent history that includes being used as a hotel and a boarding house. In fact it was when it was being used as a boarding house that another local craftsman and artist fell asleep with a lit cigarette and burned to death in one of the rooms.
Since the millennium the house was so haunted that one of the three sets of owners basically fled but not before making this place infamous! It’s been on tons of TV shows – Ghost Hunters, Ghost Adventures, Scariest Places in America, Chronicle, you name it! So obviously knowing it was haunted my curiosity was even more peaked. So is it? Well, here was my experience…
Upon walking up to the place nothing seemed amiss. And as we were heralded into the house I was not met with any sense of foreboding. If anything this place seemed to have a happy upbeat vibe in the sitting room while we waited for everyone to arrive. I had gone with my mother and her friend who had invited us to this tour. She remembered walking to school every day and passing this house wondering who the man in the window was. Now she was wondering whether or not there really was a man in the window or if perhaps he was an apparition. That was the answer she was seeking knowing there was a ghost boy who ran around and was seen in the windows all the time by people going by. No boy lives there.
As we waited my mother sat next to a fireplace watching the pokers sway. I noticed them swaying too but we were also right next to a register so I thought nothing of it. Probably heat moving them around but she claims this wasn’t’ the case, that she put her hand over the register to see if it was blowing anything and didn’t feel a breeze near the pokers. Well OK, maybe. I still wasn’t convinced.
Now this house was like a giant dollhouse, all decked up with Victorian flair and absolutely insane embossed wallpaper. I was loving it even if there wasn’t any ghosts. Still, the tour guide claimed there were twelve spirits here including a ghost cat in the basement. Well, that’s a little odd, I have to admit..
As the tour started to go through the other rooms it was just phenomenal how technologically advanced this mansion was for the time it was built. It had a dumb waiter that went all the way up to the second floor but not the third – because that was the servant’s quarters and why would making their lives easier be necessary? Similarly there were four fire places and metal panels in the chimney to aid radiant heat but they were also all on the first and second floor. The servants were left to the top floor with no heat source whatsoever which I imagine with really high ceilings it must have been colder than a witch’s tit up there! Finally there was speaking tubes and bells, buttons, and buzzers all to aid in contacting the help. The speaking tubes served as a rudimentary intercom long before such a thing was invented. Another engineering marvel was a cistern that collected a truly massive amount of water from the roof to use for laundry and whatnot. And laundry? It had it’s own heated kiln to make the water warm enough to wash the clothes! I have never come across such a thing… talk about luxury!
Washing Machine with kiln for heated water!
The house maintained a few little wash rooms where basins were kept to just illustrate how bathing was done in the day – via sponge bath. Still… seemed pretty luxurious. We went through the rooms and learned their history. I even found myself in the room the guy died in flames in and I felt nothing out of the ordinary. I was starting to suspect this house was all hype but just as I was thinking that I entered the stairway to go to the third floor, the servants quarters, and I was hit by a wall of anxiety that nearly flung me off my feet!
Earlier on someone had asked why some of the servants stayed behind as spirits, did they just love their job that much? To which the guy laughed and said no, most certainly not, and damn I could really feel that right now! This anxiety permeated my whole being the entire time I was up on the third floor getting worse and worse until I entered a pink room where the whole group of people stopped breathing all at once. You could hear a pin drop. It was the weirdest thing. This room was so quiet, too quiet. It was calming, like a total sense of zen. Our guide claimed a psychic told a story about a teenager who lost a baby in here and how many people feel overwhelmed with sadness entering it but no one here felt sad… they felt…. still. It was peaceful. I could have curled up on that bed and taken a blissful nap!
But then I left the pink room and was immediately assailed with that sense of anxiety and dread again. I was hiding it as best I could but by they time I climbed the spiral staircase to the tower my mother was noticing me acting squirrely. I blamed it on the heights but it wasn’t the heights. By now my legs were shaking uncontrollably. It was just panic… But I was still enjoying it! The tower showed a lovely view all around it and I took a few snaps before descending the stairs again. By now the tour was headed to the basement and out of the area! Woo!
So I headed back down and on that staircase between the second and third floor my little panic attack became too much to bear. By now the anxiety I was feeling was through the roof. Not only was I shaking I was getting that tight chest/can’t breathe feeling. The last two steps down I literally had to pause and tap the wall a few times with my hand to reassure myself to come back to the present. The second I got off the staircase… it was gone. I was back in a well lit house feeling pleasant and normal. What the….
After touring the delightful cellar we were done with the tour and allowed to wander at will for half an hour. I got back together with my mother’s friend who wanted to borrow my eyes to see if I could help determine what the writing on the wall upstairs near the cistern said. It appeared to be a marriage contract with signed witnesses from 1902. Why, I have no idea. But this was the third floor again! And I was back to being wobbly! Meanwhile my mother had wandered off and chosen a room on the third floor to just sit and relax with her eyes closed. She wasn’t right when she came out. I asked what was up. She said she felt weird. I prodded further and she said she was light headed. I suggested we leave the third floor.
All and all it was a great experience. If they succeed in making it a bed and breakfast I’ll be back… to stay the night… on the third floor… because that’s who I am! And you know what? I thought the creepiest place would be the dank cellar but it wasn’t! That cellar was positively happy.
Anyway. I took all sorts of photos. Interestingly a shadow had shown up on the staircase I was having an issue with. Now I can’t rule out that it’s not me casting it buuuut the more I looked at it the more I started to doubt because it does not have any arms outstretched which I would have had taking the photo. HMMM…
Below is ALL the photos I took which I am sure are quite boring unless…. you find something weird in them. If so let me know!
Around the time I started this blog I attended a group session for past life regression led by a certified regressionist at the Life Path Fellowship in Jaffrey NH, an event I knew about because they had posted it on their FaceBook page. I have always been severely curious about these things but I was hesitant to share my experience publically for the fear of it being seen as “a little out there.” I know what you’re thinking – three years later I am making plans to track Bigfoot on summer camping adventures while searching for UFOs and glowing mushrooms in the dark. I am a little out there. I’m an odd combination of scientific and spiritual. I don’t always 100% believe in these things but I keep my mind and eyes open just in case. And since I am now comfortable just being me here I have decided it was time to finally share what went down. It was an intense personal experience, one which I wrote about with more gravity than my other entries. Reading it now feels like a punch to the gut so take it as what it is – if you’re curious, by all means, go on and read. I apologize that I was unable to take any photos of the actual event so visually this is a pretty boring entry. Either way, enjoy!
That morning I was already running late and I was SUPER nervous about attending. I had no idea what to expect but generally speaking I am not one who usually enjoys participating in group activities. Add hypnosis and I was even more anxious but there was something driving me to do this. When I drove in the parking lot was empty. Greeeeeat. A moment of doubt. I still got out and made my way into the building where I was warmly welcomed. There were two other women there burbling to each other, they were cheerful and funny. I smiled and a minute later another woman showed up – an audience of four. Okaaay, little smaller than expected but too late to back out now. I settled in and just listened. The woman hosting this little event had a calming soft voice and explained the whole process of hypnosis and how it’s still a conscious and voluntary experience and can be backed out of at any point. Then she passed out yoga matts and pillows and told us all to spread out and make ourselves comfortable lying on the floor. I pondered if I would fall asleep. It’d been an early morning.. I settled in under the sun coming through the window. Another fucking gorgeous day!
I know it’s supposed to be a demon but I think it’s kind of cute. Hieronymus Bosch painting
I closed my eyes and relaxed. She brought us through the usual relaxation procedure for hypnosis, taking note of every muscle and feeling it all turn to melted butter. This took what seemed ages and I tried not to fall asleep. She then told us to imagine a garden so I did…. It was a big very planted garden behind a stone wall to one side, trees and a mountain to the others. In the center an old marble fountain, a stone bench, all sorts of strange and colorful plants and little imaginary creatures skittering about like rats. Oddly I think most of them I plagiarized from Hieronymus Bosch. Amusing…. Sure, helpful, probably not. I was sitting there wondering what the point of this exercise was and how silly it seemed when she asked for us to reach out in our garden and touch something there. Fine…. I picked up a weird alien flowery cactus-y kind of thing. It was squishy and weird, sort of like those gel beads but with far less form and perhaps a little warmer. Gross. My subconscious has a sense of humor. She then asked us to imagine our garden bathed in light, bathed in the essence of existence, alive with the energy of the creative force, a place of peace, serenity, and safety. OK, can do. We were instructed to return to the garden whenever we pleased. OK… that sounded slightly alarming but hey, another happy place isn’t always a bad thing.
Then she said we’d be going back to a memory of our younger selves. OK. Which one? Oh fuck, I’m in the back of my mother’s shitty little red Nissan driving down that road between Cathedral and Fitzgerald. My brother is in the front seat. I’m five years old fidgeting with the seat belt which is cutting into my neck because I’m too short to wear it right. This isn’t a good memory…. My mother’s pulled over, hysterical, crying, but trying to hold it together. Oddly I can feel her emotions as well as my own, which is absolute confusion, and odder still my brother’s…. He seems….. He seems disconnected, intellectually knowing what the situation is, emotionally putting it away for later. My mother announces my aunt, whom we’d all been very close to, is dead. She’s not coming back. I’m five, I never knew her when she was healthy, hospital visits were just part of life. This death thing made no sense to me.
Back to the garden I’m told to relax. Clear my mind. Fine, just as well, that wasn’t pleasant.
Now I’m told I’m going to two weeks before I was born. Uhmmmmm, OK, darkness? What am I supposed to be seeing? My host’s soothing voice guides me through the experience of witnessing my own birth. Who is there? What are they feeling? Why are you there? Interesting questions with a shockingly clear answer that comes to me like being jolted by lightning. Because I am wanted here – attracted to my mother’s love. My mother is soooooo happy. My brother is here too, age seven, I can feel his emotions – chaos, just pure chaos. What is this shriveled wailing thing we’re bringing home? I feel Flo [a close family friend] too and am really struck by her vibe…… She’s proud, very proud of my mother for doing what she wanted (having another baby) even though it was extremely difficult in her situation. I am struck once again by the lack of a final presence……… My father isn’t here. I find the whole scene fascinating. Never thought about any of this…
Back to the garden. Breathe, take a moment. OK.
Now I am going back to another life. I’m asked to look down, what kind of shoes am I wearing? A utilitarian looking set of old cowboy boots…. What do my hands look like? Manly? Where am I? Out West somewhere, in a shitty little mining town. I try to see the distinguishing features of the buildings but they become blurry especially the more I try to fixate on them. Dammit. From here I was to go to a pivotal moment in this person’s life. OK. The scene changes. I’m on the beach now, the ocean to be exact. Angry waves, dunes, Californian looking plants. There’s a gathering of people here. We’re in out twenties, early twenties, maybe even younger, there seems to be alcohol involved. A woman stands in front of me, long dark hair, her energy is of pure chaos. She’s crying, trying to make sense of it. Who is this memory about? My best friend from childhood. He’s dead, this is an impromptu memorial of sorts. I’m asked why I am at this particular memory? Not sure but I think I am supposed to meet this woman again. Someday, somehow. And now I’m brought to this person’s scene of death. What has happened? Not sure. I feel dirt and gravel under my fingers and feel myself floating upward. Something has happened very suddenly. I do not realize I am dead. There’s a big gray car. Maybe I was hit by it. Maybe I crashed it and flew through the window. Who knows.
Back to the garden. Well, OK. Here I’m encouraged to meet my spirit guide. Things get weird. I wasn’t expecting a spirit guide buuut…. there’s a red Chinese dragon here. Why is my spirit guide a Chinese dragon? It answers it is not, it’s a mask. Cool. Can I see behind the mask? He takes the mask off, behind lies a red European styled dragon. Very funny. Not sure I believe in any of this spirit guide stuff but either way this is oddly hilarious. I’m told to ask any questions I need to know about my life, he will answer. OK. My waking life was in utter chaos at the time so I asked a shitload all at once, the dragon breathes a deep sigh, has a look of impatience and says, “You’re not meant to know any of that yet.” Fiiiiiiiiine. Spirit guide or a reflection of my subconscious, either way I should have expected that.
Back to the garden, now I am told it’s time to wake up. I popped out of it. Felt my heavy body come back to life on the floor. Opened my eyes, looked at the ceiling fan, got up. OK, that was weird. We sat around and expressed what we had seen. All three other woman had done this before. One saw another dimension, another witnessed death of old age in a teepee, and I can’t remember what the last one came up with. I meandered back out to the car, still a bit woozy, struggling to hold back the urge to cry (not from sadness but from an unexpected joy.) This was an intense experience, completely unexpected, deeply personal. I left with such profound gratitude and love of life and the people in it. Each and every one.
When I got home I told my mother about a little of it. She said I looked like I was glowing and I really held back the urge to cry then. I am not someone who cries so this was a bit alarming for us both.
In the end I didn’t see what I thought I would see. I didn’t get any answers I sought. I don’t even have a belief one way or the other of whether this was a real vision or just my subconscious throwing up whatever but because it was so life affirming I stepped away from it changed somehow – in only the best of ways. When asked if I would recommend this to others – yes, I would, but with the caveat that you don’t know what you are going to get.
Well! It’s a new day, a new year, and a new decade! And as such I would really love to give this blog a little more love. I admit 2019 was a particularly pathetic year for travel as I was dealing with a lot of health issues and whatnot but the good news is that I am in an upswing and really looking forward to getting back out on the road. In fact I am practically crawling out of my own skin to get back at it. And on top of this I now have a zoom lens for better wildlife photography as well as a microscope I can attach to my cellphone to take photos! I don’t know what I am going to do with the latter buuuuut I’m sure something interesting.
I’m don’t know where I’ll be going for the remainder of the winter but I do have a an inkling of where I will be going when the snow melts. I am looking at more obscure hiking trails, abandoned buildings, historical sites, cemeteries, and to add to these I would love to start going to more fairs, festivals, antique stores, local eateries, and lesser known destinations like small local theaters, zoos, aquariums, sanctuaries, and museums. I want to show New England as the happening place it is with much to do and see for anyone and everyone.
If you’re reading this and former blog entries I’d love to thank you for joining me on my journey and wish you too a wonderful happy healthy New Year. As always if there’s an interesting, beautiful, or bizarre New England destination I have not yet hit please feel free to suggest them either by commenting on this blog entry or sending me an e-mail.
A few years ago when I was actually trying to sell my artistic creations I was told I needed to attend the Annual Craft Fair in Jaffrey because it was large enough to get ample foot traffic worth my time but I am afraid that October-December are the craziest few months out of the year for me and I never made it. So this year I showed up as a buyer! And blogger…
Granted part of the reason I wanted to go was to say hello to some of the venors I knew so I was delighted to wear this T-shirt there with a pair of metallic silver bellbottoms – because I was feeling punderfully festive, like a Hershey’s Kiss!
Right off the bat I was impressed by how many people showed up. Parking was scarce and terrifying (terrifying because I wasn’t the one doing the parking but I digress…) Although the place was obscenely poorly marked. I knew which building the auditorium was from going to school there but how people out-of-the-know were supposed to find the correct entrance for the craft fair was a mystery to me. No signs, anywhere.
Still the auditorium was packed with vendors and they were quite diverse! I mean there was the usual tsunami of knitting, crochet, and soaps, but there were also photographers, wood crafters, wreaths, stabby-stabby knives, and all sorts of holiday fun. And everyone was super cheerful. I even found some knitting I felt was on par – this sweet little plaid baby sweater – knitted by the vendor’s son whose wife taught him how to knit. LOVE THAT. I’ve used knitting in the past as a substitute for fidgeting and well… I think more people should be encouraged to do this, especially men because there are so few male knitters out of there – despite it being the perfect thing to do for an analytical brain.
I also found these weird little sock monkeys and these… uhm…. probably not haunted at all dolls. My mother liked them. She would.
By the time we got to the back of the auditorium another vendor told us there were two more fully packed rooms, one downstairs and the other in the “exercise room” in the other building. Again, there were only a few signs with arrows pointing to nowhere. I literally had to follow another crowd out of the auditorium and over to the high school through the rain and then AROUND that building to some unmarked side entrance I’d never noticed before despite going to school there for four miserable memorable months.
And low and behold this is where all the interesting vendors were – the truly creative ones. Among them was a guy selling birdhouses covered with seeds – I guess the bird version of a gingerbread house. And my favorite a woman who was frequenting local cemeteries so she could take impressions of the designs on the slate stones and use them for her jewlrey. Loved the idea! But alas I don’t do jewelry and don’t really know anyone who does or else I would have totally bought one off her.
Also in this building were a few kids desperately trying not to make eye contact as they took donations for Destination Imagination. Bless their awkward little creative hearts! I gave them ten bucks. I had been in Odyssey of the Mind, the predecessor of Destination Imagination, in my youth and it was really the only positive thing I remember about my entire public schooling career. I also bought some raffle tickets from the women’s club and was delighted to find a local author here as well. So I came home with this adorable children’s book to add to my collection. It must have been the only book she sold all day because she seemed shocked I was buying it. All the better!
Hilariously I got a compliment on the way in from across the parking lot by a student, “LOVE the hair!” (which is also Conant colors.. pure coincidence) and on my way out an even sweeter compliment came from a woman talking to her toddler daughter, “That’s awsome, you know what else is awesome? Look at that chick’s pants!” In fact my fancy pants were quite a hit. Got no less than seven compliments. I’ll totally be wearing them out again.
And since I was a passenger today I got to snap a bunch of creepy photos while we stalked a mail truck home. It was a weirdly warm and damp day. Feels like May, not December! This may have contributed to the poor turn out at the fair this year, at least according to the vendors.
