Whew! I haven't posted to this because there is so much I could say and I just didn't feel up to it. I have always been a *sensitive* and seen and heard things. I also have my own beliefs about such things.

Graveyards have always been one of my favourite places, since I was a little girl and loved visiting where my grandparents were buried to help tidy up the stones around their plot and place flowers on Memorial day. This has been passed on to my kids. One of the first sight-seeing places my son, Colin, takes people when they visit is to a huge cemetery in Louisville, KY!

In Connecticut, we once found a small, very old graveyard which had a gravestone naming a "Jerusha, wife of". I tried to take pictures of it and others in that cemetery three times and nothing came out on the film, except of other places I'd also snapped on that roll. The last time, my daughter, who is named Jerusha, stood beside it and the picture came out beautifully!

Somewhere in one of these threads is an article I wrote for a CT newspaper about the old house we lived in in Mystic which was haunted, very benevolently. Here is a bit of a letter I wrote to my mom on the subject of graveyards a few years ago:

From a letter to my Mom, 4/26/93; Mystic, CT

"Jerusha and I have been walking everyday at an old cemetery. It is so interesting! There is one stone with Chinese characters written on it and, in English, it says, "we are one in God's heaven". There are many little children's graves from the sixteen and seventeeen hundreds; as well as many of ships' captains and soldiers of all wars.
Huge, peaceful trees lend their serenity and protection amid great, broad expanses of green grass, while the Mystic River, broadened into a wide delta, slowly wends its was to Long Island Sound.
The dirt roads are paved with clam shells dropped, from high on the wing, by hungry seagulls. Great drooping tree branches offer cool shade from a not very bright sun.
Small hawks, raucous gulls, brash ravens, articulate mockingbirds, and robins trill, whistle, mimic, and wax poetic, lifting one's spirits no matter the day's weather or events. Majestic headstones proudly proclaim the hoped for immortality of each family through whatever claim to fame they may have -- even the humble, abiding love stated for one another.
I've seen vaults with monumnets to soldiers who died while trying to escape the "Rebel prisons of the South"; babies who drowned or died of "the fever"; women who literally gave their all to carry on the husband's name through death in childbirth; couples who have their stones mounted, but no death dates etched in -- they are still alive! Talk about early retirement! The old stones are my favorites. Each one tells a story, allows me a glimpse of a life gone by -- its struggles, hopes, and joys.
(I think of the graveyard as nature undisturbed; I guess because all of the people in it are so deep and quiet!**BG**)"

There is a huge weeping copper beech tree there of which I have several really good pictures. I am putting some pix up on a website of Allan and Bill's visit and my cats. When I get them up, I will include the tree one and let ya'll know. It is incredible.

kat