Backroads of Maine

John and I are always traveling around…or “rambling” as we like to say…looking for new places or interesting things.  Our trips almost never disappoint, usually leading us to one incredible find or another.

On one of our jaunts we decided to head south-west, looking for old cemeteries. Earlier in the week, John had talked to someone who told him about a couple of old cemeteries out on a dirt road in a small town. We arrived at the town and spent some time wandering through an old graveyard at the beginning of the road.

As we headed down the dirt road, the trees closed in from either side. We came upon a small house in a clearing and the first of two cemeteries. This one was on a hill and had a simple set of steps leading up to the stones. Many of the headstones were broken or falling down, slowly being reclaimed by the earth. After photographing the area, we headed out again.

Soon we came upon another small clearing that held a couple of stones. We stopped the truck and got out, cameras in hand. Just then a loud “woosh-woosh-woosh” vibrated the air, similar to the beating of an earthly heart. Out of the gully, across the road from the cemetery, rose a large crow, possibly even a raven. The wingspan was at least as wide as my arms held open fingertip to fingertip. It rose into the air and circled over us, soon landing in a tree nearby, almost as if watching us. It continued to circle or sit and watch the entire time we were at the cemetery.

The little plot was overgrown and held only 3 stones and the stump of a large tree. It looked forgotten, except for the American Flag that was placed by one of the stones, that of Capt. John Heard. We knew that someone had remembered the veteran and at least visited his grave, if only to plant the flag. I tried to imagine the area as it must have looked years ago, the massive tree reaching its arms over the ground, sheltering the individuals who were laid to rest beneath it.  What a beautiful site that must have been.

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