sweet auburn | 2020 volume ii
Truth be told , Mount Auburn is not at its aesthetic best in late March . But March 29th was a particularly uninviting day , with most of the trees leafless and gray , with multiple winter blowdowns lying in wait for the spring cleaning crew . Precious few birds were singing in the Dell .
On my final pre-COVID shutdown visit , I wandered forlornly among my favorite specimen trees , my favorite poems etched in stone , my favorite grand vistas . I said my ‘ seeyou-laters ’ to neighbors , family friends , and a beloved dentist , along with his extended Greek family . I stood beneath the skeletal underpinnings of a most spectacular Japanese Maple and anticipated the day I ’ d be back to see it leafed out , in all its glory . I couldn ’ t help wondering when that might be . And after that ? At first , I wandered by the entrance on my walks to and from Fresh Pond , hoping , I confess , that someone might say , “ Oh , just come on in .” But the escalating front-gate signage ( family members only for visits to the graves of their beloveds , only from 4 to 6 p . m ., no touring about ) and the observable uptick of small memorial gatherings confirmed the obvious : the need for closure was exceedingly real .
Later on , as a chilly April warmed to mid-May , I found myself circumnavigating Mount Auburn on foot , catching glimpses inward through the fencing and greenery , enjoying the Redbud and Magnolia blooms from beyond the boundaries . I came to appreciate the spots along Coolidge Avenue and Grove Street where unobstructed views of favorite Cemetery elements — a stately Dawn Redwood near Mary Baker Eddy ’ s pond , lingering Forsythia branches reaching over the barrier — were precious gifts . To my delight , the songbirds meandered without and within , giving me the glimpses of Black-andwhites and Yellow-rumped Warblers on their appointed rounds . Bless those avian migrants for knowing that the lockdown rules didn ’ t apply to them .
By expanding my walks to the roads and sidewalks beyond the fences , I gained a new appreciation for Mount Auburn ’ s significant neighbors . The row upon row of Memorial Day flags fluttering in the wind across the street drew me into Cambridge Cemetery , a public place with its own proud history and its own impressive list of permanent residents , including William and Henry James , and William Dean Howells . While Mount Auburn may boast the voice of the Red Sox , Curt Gowdy , I learned that there are two Baseball Hall of Famers buried across the street . The fact that Cambridge Cemetery has a few memorials that wouldn ’ t make the cut at Mount Auburn ( including pet gravestones and festive decorations most decidedly not created out of natural materials ) made me appreciate the variety of ways in which one can honor one ’ s kin and one ’ s best friends , four-footed or otherwise .
By far , the highlight of my Mount Auburn circumnavigations was the discovery of an ancient Grove Street burial ground . Hidden in plain sight , just down the street from Mount Auburn ’ s greenhouses , The Old Burying Place is a trove of memorial history that predates Mount Auburn by nearly two centuries . Consecrated sometime after the founding of Watertown in 1630 , it was mentioned in existing town meeting documents from 1642 . I was astounded to happen upon headstones of the city ’ s earliest European settlers , many fantastically carved and remarkably well preserved . Note to self : names and dates etched in slate have a far longer half-life than those in marble .
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