Ye Olde Cemetery

Sandwich is the oldest towns on Cape Cod, established in 1637, so one of the oldest cemeteries on the Cape is in Sandwich Village. The stones date back to the late 1600's, although many of the really old ones are covered with lichen or all of the writing has worn off. This cemetery has suffered the ravages of time and vandals, with many stones having been purposely broken off or even tossed into the adjoining pond. In the 1970's, the town used the cemetery as the launch point for the July 4th fireworks till it was discontinued in 1978.

Still, it's a fascinating trip through time to wander through and read names of the town's founding families, such as Dillingham, Nye, Crocker, Fessenden, Pope, Freeman, etc.

Boating is just another part of every day life on Cape Cod, and it's not at all unusual to find small boats on the shores of ponds, even in a cemetery.This is Lower Shawme Pond, aka The Mill Pond aka The Duck Pond. Steeple of the First Church of Christ, aka "The Christopher Wren".

"In Memory of Sally Dillingham she died April 19, 1799..."

I bought a gravestone rubbing kit prior to my trip and decided to try it out. I was really pleased with the results, considering it was my first time. You use a synthetic rice paper, and rub black wax over the design. I think I would have had a much easier time with a second pair of hands to help tape the paper over the stones, but overall, I am really pleased.

(Note to Axe: I made an extra rubbing of the bottom one, Micah Blackwell's stone, for you)

"In memory of Micah Blackwell who departed this Life, Lords Day Sep 30 AD 1781." It made me also wonder how many local men were involved in the planning of, or battles in, the Revolutionary War.


This is the design from Abigail Dillingham's stone. She died in 1851, at age 54.

George Crocker's (upper), Sarah Fessenden's (middle) & Zenas Nye's stones (willow). Poor Mr. Nye - he buried a 17 year old son in Jan., 1805, a 19 year old son also in Jan., 1805, and a 25 year old son in 1824. Zenas Nye died in 1828.

"In memory of Mr. George Crocker who died July 6, 1793, age 34".

"In memory of Sarah Fessenden". I thought I got the whole stone w/ her date of death but I didn't.

This stone fascinated me so I did a rubbing of the entire thing, not just the design. It reads:

"Here Lyeth the Body of Capt. Peter Adolph of New Yorke Aged 48 Years Who Dyed by Shipwrack in this Bay the 16th of March 1702 & was Washed on Shoare 3 Miles Below this Towne".

Moving on to St. Peter's Cemetery, aka "The Catholic Cemetery", which is down Pine Street a bit from the old cemetery.

I did a rubbing of my dad's stone and was pleased at how well it came out.


That's my dad's grave with the planted flowers. Then mom's; she already had her stone picked out and pre-dated w/ her birthdate. See that space between her plot and the tree? That's my grave. Seriously. When my cousin Skipper was killed in 1966, my aunt begged my parents to buy the plots adjoining theirs and Skipper's so that we could all be together, so my parents bought 3 plots. And no, it's not weird or depressing to me to know where my grave is, because it's just been a part of my life and I've never known anything different. However, since I plan to be cremated and flung off the Golden Gate Bridge, or the Marin Headlands, this plot shall go unused.

An ornate stone at St. Peter's.

Skipper is buried right behind this Crucifix, as is his mom, my Aunt Evelyn. There are plots for my late cousin Dickie, although his cremains haven't been interred yet, as well as a plot for my Uncle Dick. My parents' plots are next to those. Going to this part of the cemetery to visit Skipper's grave was, again, part of my very young life.

So when my dad gave my mom this Hummel one year, my little girl's imagination and frame of reference made me think that the Hummel was created from the St. Peter's cemetery crucifix, split rail fence and everything. Of course it wasn't. When I pointed it out to my mom not too long ago, how I thought it looked like St. Peter's, she told me that she'd never made that connection before but yes, I was right.

These next 3 pics are from the Bayview Cemetery on Rte. 130.

My Childhood Home

This is the home in which I grew up, on Old County Road in East Sandwich, Massachusetts. The house was built in approximately 1888, by William "Willie" Jones. My parents were only the 3rd owners of the house, when they bought it in 1952. I don't know much about Willie Jones, except that whenever something weird or unusual happened in the house, my dad would say, "Must've been Willie Jones". He didn't believe in ghosts but I do, yet the thought of Willie didn't scare me at all. Whatever presence is in the house is benign. Willie & his wife had several kids, most of whom were deaf. One of the girls was killed when her buggy was crossing the railroad tracks because she couldn't hear the train. That's all I know about the family.

My parents bought it from the Thomases, and it was in great disrepair. Throughout the 1950's, my dad tore it apart and renovated the entire thing. There was no plumbing when they moved in and they used an outhouse till my dad got the new well dug and plumbed the house. I grew up on well water, so there was no such thing as a luxurious "bath" because the water would turn to rust and minerals if you tried to fill the tub past a certain point. But my dentist tells me my teeth are rock hard from the well water. That's my old room, the single window on the second floor.

This is why I love beautiful coloured glass so much. My mom's had this pretty collection of glass in the porch windows time out of mind. On cold days, I'd stand and look out this window till my school bus passed (it turned around up the street) and then I'd walk down the driveway so it could pick me up on the way back.

And I always stared at this glass while eating my breakfast. This is the view from "my" chair.

Front lawn. This piece of property was a bitch to cut in the summer. Yours truly started doing it in the summer of '78. I used a gas powered push mower and it would take at least 2 hours. I could never quite get it under 2, no matter how fast I tried to go. And of course it had to be done "right", which also meant raking the grass into piles, then putting the clipping piles into a wheelbarrow and dumping them in the compost pile. After that, I'd get out the weed wacker and all of my dad's heavy duty extension cords, and weed wack around all the trees. And you wonder why I hate yardwork? Granted, dad paid me a good wage to do it, and I needed cash to feed my record album habit.

That's the "coop". The Thomas Family had a small farm with a few chickens and they resided in this chicken coop. Dad tore it apart and renovated it into a wicked awesome party house. There was a wet bar and half bathroom. Heat for winter, air con in summer. Stereo. Picnic table where we'd do crafts all summer long while listening to the stereo. There were a couple of twin beds and I had sleep overs in the summer w/ Di & Sha, and sometimes my friends. When my mother was my troup's Campfire Girls leader, meetings were held in the coop. Dad would host Lions Club meetings there as well. My parents LOVED to entertain, and my dad loved to cook for their friends. I know that Liz & Holly both have fond memories of hanging out in the coop, too. If those walls could talk, they would fondly remember how much laughter was shared over grub and grog in that building, by children and adults alike. And what is sad is that so many of the people who enjoyed themselves partying w/ my folks, have passed on.

That's the barn, even though no livestock was kept in there. Just all dad's plumbing supplies and tools, gardening equipment, etc. The thing that is really sad to me is that dad's truck is gone. She sold it a few months after he died; I mean, there was no reason to keep it. But dad's bright red truck was his trademark. He did no advertising at all, and didn't even have his name on his truck, but EVERYONE knew who was driving the only bright red Ford Econoline in Sandwich.

Looking down the driveway. Can't tell you how many times that poor tree in the center of the driveway got killed by the snow plow in winter. That's a new tree. The old one finally couldn't take any more abuse and died.

Looking at the kitchen. That window on the upper right is the upstairs bathroom window. For a couple of summers I would climb out of the window and sit on the flat roof above the downstairs bath (above that oil tank) and stargaze for hours, or until the mosquitos started biting. My room was sweltering all summer because for some reason, it was not insulated. In the winter it would be freezing and the summer was hot and humid, no matter how many fans I used (again, another fact both Holly & Liz could attest to). Getting out on the roof was one way to beat the heat.

Looking down the dirt road at the cranberry bog and train tracks in the distance. I used to play at the bog a lot, sometimes skate on it in winter. I loved the sound of the trains too, and Di & I used to walk the tracks all the time. Always being extra careful by turning around frequently or feeling the rails.

Looking at the front of the house.

Looking up the driveway from the street.

I made this cross stitch for my mom a few years ago.

In the mood for cute

Well my first week back has been a ballbuster, as usual. I don't know why I would expect anything different. Our weather is turning hot for tomorrow and the weekend which I am not on board with. Oh how I dread the hot summer months and long for the cool fall days.

I just got my pics back from my trip and have to sort them. I had to get duplicates so that I can send them to my mom and cousins. They'll get blogged over the weekend.

Had an amusing incident last Friday with mah doggies. Brian forgot his wallet at home and needed it to register for the work trip to Oregon this week. I was pretty sick, but offered to meet him halfway b/t home and work. The whole ride there and back, Pepper took up all the room in the backseat. Poor Sagie was sitting bolt upright in the corner of the back seat, swaying b/c the seat kind of goes up a bit there. I was looking at them in the rearview mirror and cracking up.

We got home and I was mucking about on Facebook upstairs. Pepper is asleep on the floor behind me. I thought Sagan was on his couch but he was nowhere to be found. I called to him, and got no response. I went downstairs and checked around. Imagine my utter shock to find him in the family room, curled up IN PEPPER'S BED. He has never, ever done that before. He wouldn't get off her bed till she wandered into the family room and saw him. Then, and only then, did he get off her bed and strut past her. It never ceases to amaze me just how smart he is, and how he had the ability to formulate a plan to get back at her.

When Brian's out of town, Sagan tries to push the envelope with me more than he ever does when daddy is home. Last night he was outside and refused to come in. I grabbed his fave squeak toy, Quackers, and was squeaking it and saying, "C'mon Sagie! C'mon!" Next thing I know, Quackers is plucked out of my hand. I turn around to see Pepper scurrying to her bed with Quackers in her mouth. Needless to say, that got him inside pretty quick.

So without further adieu, I bring you some recent ultra cute Cheezburger and Hotdog pics.

BECAUSE JOJO DON'T DO YARDWORK!

I believe I've made my feelings on the great outdoors pretty clear, but in case some of you are just tuning in, I abhor yardwork and gardening. Hate it. It's back-breaking, hot, sweaty, my glasses get fogged up, my nose runs like a faucet. And I do a half assed job. Brian tried the old, "You have to weed because you are closer to the ground" thing, but forget it. It's just not worth all the pain in my back, neck and knees. About the only thing I actually do like is mowing the lawn.

Unfortunately, our mower needs some work and we never got around to taking it down to the John Deere shop in Sumner over the winter. Then the grass grew. And grew. And grew. Before I left for the Cape, it was already ankle deep. By the time I got back, it had easily grown another 3". The weeds totally took over. Additionally, Sagan had dug so many really deep holes and had displaced the earth so much that the holes were impossible to fill. Not to mention the lovely, rocky glacial till that passes itself off as soil in Washington.

It was time to call in the professionals. A couple of months ago, we got a little flyer either in the mail box or front porch, advertising a landscaping service. I called Mr. Vu and he came out and gave us an estimate to weed, mow and spread beauty bark in the back. He quoted us a price that I thought was extremely fair, considering the work that had to be done.

Here are some pictures I shot on Sunday afternoon, before Mr. Vu came out to deal with this mess.

No, we don't eat the dandelion greens because let's face it, we have two dogs.......

That black splotch next to the cement walk is one of Sagie's many holes.

Here are some ground-level views so that you can see just how deep the grass was.

Pa-Thet-Ic.

AND NOW! The grand unveiling of the "After" pictures!!!! This is what $1,220 of landscaping buys you:

They even trimmed the bottom of those cedar trees!!!

WOW! Look at that!!! No weeds! No holes!!! And Mr. Vu and his crew managed to unearth the cement border edging all around the yard.

This was a complete jungle of stick-like trees and ferns.

It was worth every penny.

They also shaped that holly tree against the back fence.

I could not be more pleased. When I got home yesterday, Mr. Vu and his 3-man crew were just getting ready to leave. I couldn't stop expressing my joy and appreciation. Sure, $1,220 is a lot of money, but when you figure that 12 yards of beauty bark runs about $400 alone, and for all the work they did, it was a bargain. I've made some good financial decisions over the past couple of months, and there is no trip to Canada for me this year, so why not spend it on the yard? Plus, it stimulates our local economy: Mr. Vu's workers get paid, they then shop at the local stores. And most importantly, I DIDN'T HAVE TO DO IT!! Now that I see what a good job he did on the back, we're going to have him come back with his crew and do the front yard, which is looking a bit ratty, although they did mow the front yard yesterday. Oh yeah, and they also used the blower on our front porch and all the way down our driveway to clean off the winter's pine needles.

He's going to charge us $33 per week to keep it mowed and tidy. A small price to pay to be pain free and be able to enjoy the yard for once.