Dallying with the deceased

It was a late Sunday afternoon. The dog wanted a walk, my weekend shopping and socializing were done, and I was in the mood for a change of scenery. Where to go? Why, the local cemetery, of course.

If this seems like a strange choice, you should know that I love cemeteries, especially old ones, with their gnarly trees, tipsy headstones, and rocky paths. They are filled with stories and secrets, and, very often, with surprises, which you'll see in just a minute.

Mountain View Cemetery is tucked away at the end of an otherwise busy avenue in Oakland. When I drove through the elegant, ebony iron gates, kissed with gold leaf...

 ...I turned the corner and found myself on a curving road lined with cherry trees in full bloom.

 Upon opening the car door, I stepped into a storm of tumbling cherry blossoms, a sweet and fragrant greeting that set the mood for the magical couple of hours that lay ahead. 

As I set off down the gravel path, my eyes rested on one beautiful vista after another.

 Stately cypresses encircle what looks to be...no kidding...a swimming pool. 

Really? In a cemetery? Perhaps those who ended up in the "other place" need a dip now and then to cool off? If you have other ideas, please let me know. 

 Huffing my way up the hill, I came upon a treasure trove of monuments. Many of these people were born almost 200 years ago. What would they think of our lives today, with our cell phones and streaming video, satellites and robot vehicles exploring Mars?

Mr. and Mrs. Drake chose to be silent on the matter. 

 

I noticed a number of intrepid travelers, like the Montgomerys here, came from Maine in the early to mid-1800s. What a journey! Were they drawn by the Gold Rush? 
So many men flocked here at that time, hoping to get rich.
 

 

Mr. Montgomery would have been just 20 years old when gold was discovered in the Sierra Nevada foothills in 1849. At that age, excitement beckons, and risks are shrugged aside. Judging by this large and expensive headstone, he did well.



In the meantime, how beautiful is this? Draped and tasseled, weeping with roses. Mr. Williams came here from England, probably as a young man, at a time when the journey could have taken the better part of a year. What was the big draw? Mr. Williams isn't talking, either.

 

I found this small headstone particularly poignant.

 After looking up the phrase "Woodman of the World," I discovered it was a fraternal order of woodworkers whose motto was "Dum Tacet Clamat." I looked that up, too. There are variable translations, but the one I liked best is "Though silent, he speaks." I wonder what the bird symbolizes. 

I stood in front of this headstone for probably five minutes, doing the math over and over again in my head. Was this woman really 20 years older than her husband? You rocked, Elizabeth!

 

 The further up the hill you go, the fancier the monuments get. 

This one reminded me of the Space Needle in Seattle. 
Although I doubt that's what they were striving for.

 

  

At the ridge of the hill were the permanent homes of the truly elite. And I have to say, they are impressive. All this one needs is the Nile river gliding lazily by in front.

 

And here we find that Oakland has its own Lincoln Monument. Move over, D.C.!

I call this "The Gardener's Cottage." (With apologies to the blog of the same name.)

A close-up of those gorgeous copper doors.

Do we think this is the man who invented the Coleman stove? The windows need repair, Mr. Coleman. Get in touch with your great-great-great grandchildren.

 And...Ray Bradbury?

I encountered a group of Goth teenagers up on the ridge,

looking as if they'd wandered in from a Tim Burton movie set. You can see one of them with his bicycle here. He saw me taking his photograph, and he smiled sweetly, and waved. This is a very friendly neighborhood.

Here at the top of the hill, the views are stunning, at least for the still living. There's a bit of fog, otherwise you'd be able to see the bay.

Walking back to the car, I found this charming figure nestled in a shade-dappled glade. 

Don't we all want an angel like this watching over us? With one foot tucked under like an innocent child? What a sweet expression for the sweet hereafter. 


Visit your local cemetery, and say hello to the inhabitants. They are quiet, tolerant, and undemanding. The perfect neighbors. With not a care in the world. 

© 2013 by A Silken Swoon. All rights reserved. All photos by Eileen of A Silken Swoon.