Grave in the Woods

I created that banner above in an attempt to spruce up the place for certain times of year. Halloween and Christmas make a bit of sense, but I do end up using them quite a lot since I only appear to be active around those times. Otherwise it’s business as usual, save for the Junk Food Article I did five years ago. Making matters worse, I tend to do an annual Halloween candy in July tradition, which forfeits the patriotic aesthetic, so I need to do something a little different.

In an attempt to try and update the site weekly (in some fashion, so don't go expecting articles), and rather than jumping back into junk food—since I can eat that way exactly one more time before I DIE—I will instead cover a little bit of trespassing and explosions.

About a year ago, I became interested in cemetery restoration. Rather than jumping straight in, I began to work with some established groups in order to learn the ropes. This led to searching for additional cemeteries near where I lived, since we have a few hundred—and that’s not an exaggeration; there are a LOT of family plots.

Find a Grave (I’ll forego the abbreviation) is usually the primary resource for hobbyists who can’t be bothered to go to the town hall, where you will either be berated for using their services or stared at like a deer under the tires. I had located a few nearby, but upon stumbling on yet another grave resource that had serious Web 1.0 vibes, there was mention of an even closer lot in the forest. That site promptly disappeared, being someone’s personal discoveries, but I did find another. The second then began to throw 403 permission errors, so I figured I was cursed and should no longer attempt to find a third.

So rather than systematically taking down the final remnants of the town’s grave records, I set out to find the site in person. Easier said than done. With it being winter when I first decided to go on the hunt, I figured it would be better to wait until the leaves came in so mucking around in someone’s backyard wouldn’t appear too obvious. I mentioned that the lot was in the forest, but due to the abundance of No Trespassing signs, it seems that the woodland is owned by someone, and they don’t take kindly to strangers in them thar places.

That didn’t stop me, of course, but I wanted to at least play it a little more safely. The downside to the leaves is that they blocked out any hope of finding stones in the ground once the brambles and ground brush grew in. A good attempt was made, but little came of it other than some severe tire damage on my legs from the thorns.

But after another winter cycle, I decided to give it another go. I looked up the town’s GIS map and noticed that there was a curious box just next to where I was looking. I had jotted down some GPS coordinates from the website before it died, but that sent me to the wrong location.

With something that looked a little more promising, I also noticed that there was a Cemetery Access Easement, which lent a little more credence to the idea that something actually existed. It was worth one final try, mainly so I had something to post.

Armed with a $2.48 Home Depot flag, which was quite proudly Made in the USA (imagine that), I parked and jumped over the fence into the great unknown. Through pine trees and prickers, there appeared to be some sort of path. I attributed it to the deer, and while they’ve been eating my lilies, and I hope to return the favor by eating them, I figured they perhaps knew their way around, so I followed.

I never sync the images correctly to the text, so HERE’S the deer trail. Except some of the ground cover looks a little too perfectly cut. I can only assume the deer have learned how to landscape. Now if they could only cut my lawn instead of my flowers, I won’t have to murder them at dawn’s first light. In season or not…

Using my GPS as my eyes, instead of my actual eyes, led me both closer to my target and into the path of hanging branches that threatened to stab me in the neck. I wasn’t going to make any headway otherwise, so it was an acceptable sacrifice. The two dollars and change wasn’t going to be the only price of this article. Just be glad I didn’t bleed out there. That would have been awkward. I might have even gotten a fine once they found me.

As I ventured ever closer, I began to see remnants of fences long-since abandoned. With rusty barbed wires desperately hoping to give me tetanus, I did my best to step over them without adding yet another gash to my already marred legs.

I thought I saw a fieldstone. Well, strike that… I did see some fieldstones, but I thought I saw one with some initials. Those are always a nice find, but in this case, the stone was simply a cemetery marker. But that was a good sign, since it meant that the stray rocks weren't just random glacial remnants.

Then, over ahead, I saw something that looked very much less like a rough stone.

Walking around the side, I finally found the object that I had been searching for since the year before.

Joshua Petty was born in 1757. Later during the Revolutionary War, he was a lieutenant in the 5th Massachusetts Regiment. Aside from various vital records of his children beginning in the 1780s, there isn’t too much else about his time during the War.

In any case, the previous flag was battered and trampled into the ground, likely from the deer, who were probably descendants of the Hessians. I replaced it with a fresher copy in hopes that it may last a little longer.

Now that I know where the lot is, I can more easily head back and give the stone a proper cleaning with the correct solutions that won’t damage the stone. It’s less than a century old, but nevertheless, there’s no sense in going about things the wrong way.

Going back to the fact that there are so many burial grounds around here, it was generally common to bury families on the farm property. And since most farms were split and sold off by boomers looking to pull a fast one on the next generation, there’s now a patchwork of small plots that sprinkle the states.

I kid, sort of, since the deed does go back to the 1860s, when the parcel was separated from the private land around it and given an easement for access. It’s believed that the majority of the stones belong to the Petty family, but without names, it’s impossible to determine who is who. We can generally guess that his son Moses and grandson Nathan are there since they were the next two in line to inherit the property.

And why fieldstones? Well, it’s a Quaker tradition that lasted until the mid-19th century, where they felt no need to be remembered after they died, and the markers simply instructed the gravediggers to move over one spot when interring the next. This would explain the record that had a proper stone carved in the 1930s, since there was an interest in memorializing war veterans.

At least until they’re forgotten and left to be reclaimed by nature for another century.