Bellefontaine Cemetery

 Amazing trees.Compare the exploding colors to the leafless trees of the Lost Valley and the Clark Trails--even though the Bellefontaine walk is four days later. I imagine the thunderstorms predicted for Sunday night will probably knock down most of these leaves, but who knows?  The drought this summer made us all believe we'd have a terribly bland autumn, but it turned out to be the opposite.

 I wondered around awhile, looking for Teasdale's grave. It had been years since I'd consciously sought it out--I think the last time was with Paul--many years ago after he first had the idea that I should take students on trips here.  People left mementos. The statue of white angel--and this recent addition--a translation of Teasdale's poems in Russian, left by the translator, who typed this information on a label stuck inside the waterproof case holding a copy of the book.


Sara Teasdale brings memories of sophomore year of high school--1981-1982. Spring. Her poem "Central Park at Dusk":
Buildings above the leafless trees

Loom high as castles in a dream,
While one by one the lamps come out
To thread the twilight with a gleam.

There is no sign of leaf or bud,
A hush is over everything--
Silent as women wait for love,
The world is waiting for the spring.

 And the poem that I loved at fifteen:

"I Shall Not Care"

WHEN I am dead and over me bright April

Shakes out her rain-drenched hair,

Tho' you should lean above me broken-hearted,

I shall not care.

I shall have peace, as leafy trees are peaceful

When rain bends down the bough,

And I shall be more silent and cold-hearted

Than you are now.

 The last hike of the Fall in Bellefontaine Cemetery. Perhaps the last cemetery hike of the year. The dark obelisk is in memory of a young man's wife (I say he's young, but it's not his grave, so I don't really know), who died at twenty in the early to mid 1800's. The inscription includes not just years, but months and days. . . . she was just shy of twenty-one.