This morning, I went walking in Mount Auburn Cemetery. It was snowing, but not too cold, which is perfect for evoking Victorian melancholy without suffering too much.
Near the Mary Baker Eddy memorial, I happened across a scene that appeared to have been stolen from a 14-year-old goth's imagination:
What kind of roses still cling to the bush in February?
2 comments:
A new book I just came across: Our History In Stone: The New England Cemetery Dictionary. I haven't seen it, but it sounds like it might be interesting.
(I miss Mount Auburn.)
—RJO
Non sequitur: Some very good cemetery posts here:
http://greensleeves.typepad.com/berkshires/
—RJO
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