Sweet Auburn: The Magazine of the Friends of Mount Auburn A Dynamic and Evolving Landscape | Page 29

People and Happenings
Cambridge artist
Maria Lindberg
is continually inspired by Auburn
Lake. Her seasonal
photos left to right
in autumn, winter
and spring and
paintings below,
clockwise from
top:Wild Irises,
Dragonfly and
Meditation at
Auburn Lake.

Mount Auburn Memoir:
A Friendship by Maria Lindberg
I don’t remember whe n it starte d.
When Deborah and I first met years ago,
we discovered that we had much in common,
including walks we had taken in Mount
Auburn Cemetery when our children were
young. We had both independently discovered
a place where as young mothers we could
restore our souls while providing our children
with beauty and discovery. Our children
felt the magic of “the forest” unaware of the
lessons of life that they were absorbing at
the same time that they fed the ducks (then
allowed) and collected mahogany-hued fallen
horse chestnuts.
Three-year-old Kate
fell into Auburn
Lake while feeding
those ducks, and
5-year-old Matt
intently collected
the coffee bean
pods that had fallen
from the Kentucky
Coffee Bean Tree,
littering the path.
Mount Auburn
Cemetery gave us an invaluable gift in those early years
of friendship. Our children were grown when Deborah
and I claimed Mount Auburn Cemetery as our own.
We have now progressed to the condition of “old
friends,” and when Deborah and I pass through Mount
Auburn’s gates on our weekly pilgrimage, peace enters our
hearts as we anticipate the glories (and perhaps, surprises)
that await us. Each time feels as if it is the first, this
unexpected blessing of our friendship. Will the heron be
waiting for us at Auburn Lake ready to perform its graceful
Egyptian walk, ever so patient on its quest for a meal of

fish and frogs? Our powers of observation have been finely
honed through the years as we have learned to watch, wait
and listen, our patience rewarded by sightings of kingfishers, red-winged blackbirds, and the migration of warblers.
The colors of the cedars and cypresses in Autumn as their
needle-like sprays turn into the color of
warm peaches and the vibrant shades of red
of the Japanese maples delight anew with
each year. We listen to the sounds of the
bullfrogs and know that it will be a warm
day. We expertly spot sun-glistened shells of
turtles where we once saw only rocks. We
feel privileged as we watch a juvenile redtailed hawk devour the entrails of a squirrel
in its will to survive. We have discovered
the dignity and beauty of turkeys, their
feathers iridescent and richly hued. We
have watched mother owls nurture their
fledglings and have thrilled to the
hunt for owl pellets. A dragonfly
becomes an amuse bouche as a
grackle delicately devours the best
part while elegantly leaving behind
the wings…the wings, my favorite
part and I claim my cellophane-like
treasure. Deborah and I know the
simple beauty of lichen and the
promise contained in a burl.
Deborah and I sit on “our” bench at Auburn Lake and
solve the problems of the world as our now well-trained
eyes simultaneously scan the trees and lake hungry for just
a glimpse, just a story that will take us beyond our own
selves. We scour gravestones for connections to the past
and for the sublime lost art of classically inspired sculptures,
palpable beauty. Now that we are older, we joke that we
once shopped for clothes. Now we shop for our own
immortality. As we walk, we visit friends and the authors
of books. We wonder about the lives of strangers. We find
our destiny. Deborah preferring Spruce Knoll and I, Birch
Gardens. The promise of a friendship to be continued in a
place that has shaped us, enriched us in life.
2016 Volume 2 | 27