Nothing beside remains
At the beginning of May, I was heartened by how more of Lutheran All Faiths had been mown and trimmed than it has been for a long time and that I saw a landscaping company's truck and personnel in one place. It made me optimistic.
So when I visited June 2, I felt more betrayed than usual.
This last photo is of the Mager site, where Irving sits.
Things were so bad June 2 that after I walked around trying to get to favorite places through the tall grass, I had plant schmutz on my jeans all the way up to my knees. (Worried about ticks, I never would've attempted wading in if my legs hadn't been shrouded in cloth.) My contact allergies started triggering even with the denim in the way. Irving was completely shrouded in leafed-out tree branches and the massive overgrowth stopped me from trying to get behind the site for a look at him, something I used last year since there is a little space around him cleared there. The cemetery was giving me Life After People vibes. A well-tended cemetery can be somewhat comforting and a nice meandering walk, but a neglected one serves you "Ozymandias," leaving you with the despairing feeling that nothing lasts, everything crumbles or dies, memory fails and no one cares, and nothing you do will leave a persisting impression and legacy.
Things were a little more groomed when I visited Tuesday afternoon, letting me get to the back of the site at least. The impinging branch I moved as away from Irving as I could manage in May had shifted a little closer to him but I managed to creep into the slightly open space a little to move and pin the branch a little further away from the statue, as much as I could.
So when I visited June 2, I felt more betrayed than usual.
This last photo is of the Mager site, where Irving sits.
Things were so bad June 2 that after I walked around trying to get to favorite places through the tall grass, I had plant schmutz on my jeans all the way up to my knees. (Worried about ticks, I never would've attempted wading in if my legs hadn't been shrouded in cloth.) My contact allergies started triggering even with the denim in the way. Irving was completely shrouded in leafed-out tree branches and the massive overgrowth stopped me from trying to get behind the site for a look at him, something I used last year since there is a little space around him cleared there. The cemetery was giving me Life After People vibes. A well-tended cemetery can be somewhat comforting and a nice meandering walk, but a neglected one serves you "Ozymandias," leaving you with the despairing feeling that nothing lasts, everything crumbles or dies, memory fails and no one cares, and nothing you do will leave a persisting impression and legacy.
Things were a little more groomed when I visited Tuesday afternoon, letting me get to the back of the site at least. The impinging branch I moved as away from Irving as I could manage in May had shifted a little closer to him but I managed to creep into the slightly open space a little to move and pin the branch a little further away from the statue, as much as I could.