The astute among you will have noticed, perhaps, that I’ve moved. Ohio to NJ isn’t the longest move in the world, but it is enough to be obviously different. I was wondering, before I left Ohio, how the “new place” would affect my writing, seeing as how where and how I live influence me so greatly. Here’s my initial report (I see you nodding off in the corner, there. Don’t worry, there will be no PowerPoint presentation, no dull — I hope — discourse on life, the universe and my cosmic place. Yet.)
Across the street from my apartment is a cemetery, founded in 1800, where I often walk. The oldest tombstones are fallen over and their engravings weathered away to near-invisibility, but the ones I can still read give date of death as around 1805, with the age noted as “67 years and 3 mo.” The sign in the center lists the veterans, by war, with the first war listed being the War of 1812. It’s a pretty cool place to walk. When I do, I often wonder about the lives of those interred there, and those they left behind. It’s led to my thinking, a whole lot, about death, mortality, and what we leave behind. About societal conventions in marriage, re-marriage, children, and burial practices, and how they change, or don’t. Which leads to some strange thoughts connecting in my brain.
I don’t want to say these are the only thoughts I have, here. They’re not, but they are pretty central to the ideas skittering around in my brain (as they try to evade being written about). It’s not what I thought NJ would bring to my writing, not by a long shot. But I must say, I’m not unhappy with it. Not one little bit!
So, just to prove I’m not entirely whack-o, here are some other, more normal, things about NJ:
Along with blueberries comes acidic soil. Sandy, acidic soil. The ferns love it along the shady river bottoms. I love ferns. Look at the different kinds sprouting along the river below the cemetery (taken earlier in the year):
What do I miss? That’s pretty easy. Snakes! I haven’t seen one since I’ve been here. That makes me a bit sad, since I used to see them quite a lot before the move. They kind of made me feel at home. Which takes us right back to how strange I must be. *sigh* Well, enough then. Time to get back to writing.
And, Happy Father’s Day.