Clearly Home To A Lot Of Ghosts

I think I miscalculated. I have spent a fair amount of time at the cemetery lately, and have been trying to be cheerful towards the other people I see walking there. Only now some of them want to chat, but the conversations are oddly off balance. It has begun to erode my peacefulness. So I have decided to look mournful, as if I just lost somebody close to me, and hopefully discourage talking.

I don’t mind though placing a flower at a gravesite for someone living in another country. Like I did at Michael Clearys grave. I didn’t know him personally, but I know someone who was his friend, but lives in Ireland now.

Yesterday morning I got on my bike and headed towards the cemetery again. On my way there I encountered a beautiful Rose of Sharon, blooming like crazy. Its doing far better then the ones at my mum and dads gravesite, which now makes me wonder if they need more sunlight. Or maybe I was just too aggressive with my pruning last November. When I reached the cemetery I watered all of the flowers and plants in my care, and took a few random photos. Then I left, as I wanted to get home and go for a walk with the cats.

Unfortunately, (for the cats that is,) I got a little sidetracked. Firstly, by the old Timothy Street House on Mill Street. It looked to me as if it was no longer being lived in. So I went up close and looked in the windows. I was correct. It was empty. So, I took photos of stuff I never had before. Like the front door, and the backside that is covered in yellow clapboard. I was so pleased. I even took an up close photo of the old camping trailer that sits in the bush.

When I left there, I got no further then Church and Mill Streets before I stopped again to take more photos. This time of an old house that is genuinely abandoned. One that nearly burnt down a few years ago, and is clearly home to a lot of ghosts. I had wanted to take a picture of the pear tree that sits in its backyard, but the battery on my phone died. Too bad, because someone had stripped the tree of all its pears, and I wanted to show it. In any case, I’m glad the pears were picked.

When I finally reached home, I went upstairs and marshaled three of the cats outdoors. They followed me as far as Branch 134 of the Royal Canadian Legion, but then separated themselves. The boys disappeared into the bushes, while Maribel stuck with me all the way to the old Power Dam. There we both sat down and relaxed.