Written in Ink

Musings of the Mundane & Otherworldly

So, I haven't eaten yet today and I'm hungry but I'm feeling too blah to go into the kitchen to make something to eat. Everything I have requires actually putting various ingredients together to make a dish... You know, cooking. Sigh

Also, there's nothing good on tv. I keep flipping through channels, annoyed at the lack of good things to watch. I could use this opportunity to catch up on a myriad of missed shows, but again, like with the cooking, that would require doing something and not being lazy.

And then there was yesterday... I was out and about running a couple of errands and decided to stop to search for a geocache. The particular one I chose was located somewhere in a really tiny, really old cemetery that must not have a caretaker. There were beautiful wildflowers everywhere, and I wanted to photograph them, but I got there too late in the day and the light wasn't good anymore. I'll have to go back.


But that's not the weird thing... The weird thing is this: according to the coordinates I had, the geocache should have been hidden somewhere on a tree that was surrounded by a couple of tight rows of gravesites. The cache owner had stipulated that it wouldn't be hidden on, or as part of, any of the actual graves. That's par for the course for caches hidden at cemeteries... They're never in a place that would desecrate someone's grave. So anyway, I'm gingerly stepping around and between rows, because, even though I know it's ok to step on the ground around a grave marker, I still feel kinda bad about stepping on an area where I feel I might be directly over a casket.

Anyhoo, I get to the tree. It's big and beautiful and its bark twists in gnarly patterns all over the trunk and boughs. And there are lovely little crevices that sink into the heart of the tree. And in the failing light, surrounded by mute headstones that have begun to crumble and cant at strange angles, it's just this serene, tranquil spot of beauty. Anyhoo, a couple of the graves seem to come up pretty close to the base of the tree, so I'm trying to stick as close to the trunk as I can as I circle it and poke and prod around it with my flashlight and fingers. I'm sidestepping my way around it for the umpteenth time when one of my feet scrapes across the ground with that characteristic feeling of having brushed loose dirt. So I look down and see that my foot has indeed moved a bit of loose topsoil. I follow the shape of it and see that it creates the typical oblong mound of fresh, powdery dirt that can only be found in a cemetery: the sign of a recently interred body. The size of the mound, and the relative dryness of the dirt suggests that it's not totally fresh, more like it was created within the past several months. And there aren't any weeds or wildflowers growing out of it, either, except for two small sprouts.

Why is this odd, you ask? Remember how I said this was an old cemetery? Most of the graves were from the 1900s (or older) up to about the 1950s. I found a pair from the 2000s, just prior to 2010 (assuming they were family plots bought long before the cemetery stopped being used on the regular), but they were the only ones that recent. And all the gravesites had really tall weeds and wildflowers growing out of the earth around them. Most of them were old enough for the ground around them to have become flat and packed again. Even the two graves that were "new," with earth still piled in a casket-sized mound, had wildflowers growing from them, and the dirt was hard and densely packed, not soft like sifted flour.

That was the case with this grave by the tree. The dirt was powdery, loose, and fine. The headstone on top of it indicated that the person below had been interred in 1950. So why was the dirt disturbed? Where were the plants? Why was it, alone, like this?


In the deepening twilight, with not even the spring breeze typical of this time of year blowing to move the leaves in the trees, and an eerie quiet seemingly not penetrated by the traffic sounds of the nearby interstate, I immediately thought of one thing: hunters. I think I've been watching too much Supernatural, because Sam and Dean Winchester type hunters was the first thing I thought of. It was just too uncanny.

Anyway, now that I'm typing this, I'm thinking it was probably some surviving family member who came to weed the grave. And anyone who has ever gardened knows what that's like: you have to pull them up by their roots and it creates a lot of soft, sifted dirt. Still, though, that's a relatively old grave for someone to have come to tend to it. Most people who would have known and cared about that person would be fairly old themselves by now, and maybe don't even live in the area anymore.


Anyway... Those are my musings at the moment. I guess I'll have to cook something now. I mean, it couldn't hurt to be near the salt shaker right now, right?

And oh yeah, I didn't even find the cache.

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