Back to the Past

I've had my BMW F650 CS motorcycle for sale at the end of my driveway for several days now.  Not so much as a bite.  So I decided to take her out for a spin.  I rode down to Richmond, and then to my family's ancestral farm.  The last relative to live there was my Uncle Frank McCann. He and his family stayed there many summers.  There is a brook fed pond that Frank created.  The water is sooooo cold, but I hear there are "Brookies" in there.   There are over 400 acres of woods, and hay fields out there.  When my uncle died years ago, my aunt sold the place for $250,000.  What a shame the beautiful could not stay in the family.  Whoever lives there now has made this warm little cape even more picturesque.  The house is still perfectly straight and square.

Nearly across the drive from the farm there is a stone chamber similar to the chambers I saw at "America's Stonehenge".   I can't say if the Richmond chamber is related, but the construction is identical in shape, height and depth.  I've always known about this chamber.  There have been theories about it's use throughout family history. I'd heard it was a place to hide from indians, or just a play fort for kids, or maybe a root cellar?  The chamber is far enough away from the house, that one might not want to use it for a root cellar really.  So I'm puzzled.

Up the road which immediately becomes an OHRV trail, I located the old cemetery.   Most of the occupants died in the early 1800's.  Among them, my ancestors Zimri and Polly Bowen.  I'm intrigued about their lives, but know nothing of it.  There is a large crypt toward the entrance of the cemetery.  A large mended marble head stone leans againsth the opening. Several steps lead down into the "beyond" that you can't see.  Inside the crypt, darkness, a cool, dampish weirdness surrounded me the minute my foot touch the dirt floor.   I didn't have a flash light.

But I took several photos inside, illuminating anything that could be lurking.  I found no crawling hands, or unidentified skull.  But there was  definitely something funky on the ceiling.

The ceiling glistened, many white shimmering reflections on the ceiling alone, nowhere else in the crypt.  

After allowing my mind to open to creepiness, I tried to imagine everyone who had been buried here.  Some of these people died so young, survived by their mothers.  There were stones in the corners of the cemetery, that seems unidentifiable.  Lichen and low bush blueberries have blanked the entire cemetery.  I'm glad that someone took the time to cut down all the saplings that grown up between the graves.  Last time I was here, there were trees growing throughout the cemetery.