Green-Wood Cemetery: Spring

Spring has been taking its sweet time arriving this year. April showers are supposed to bring May flowers, but I'm not entirely sure what April snow showers will bring. I try really hard not to get too grumpy about weather because I can't control it and I do love seasons—but at this point in the year, I'm definitely ready to shed some layers and start seeing some signs of life. 

A cemetery might not seem like a great place to search for signs of life, but we took a chilly walk at Green-Wood this weekend and spotted telltale signs that spring is indeed happening, however slowly. The flowering trees are about a month behind schedule, but they're trying their best despite the frigid temperatures and March nor'easters. 

I've spent the last five years photographing spring blooms around the city and I'm still no closer to being able to identify anything I see. I can tell a cherry blossom from a magnolia tree and thanks to David I know that forsythia is yellow, but my plant knowledge pretty much ends there. Most of the trees are still completely bare, but there are a few over-achievers scattered around Green-Wood (nothing compares to azalea season though). 

I know that spring will come, however late, followed by summer and pretty soon I'll forget what it was like to feel really cold. Some years it feels as if everything blooms overnight, blink and you might miss an entire season. Part of me is enjoying this slow rollout to spring—I just need to learn how to savor this transition time and not be impatient for the next phase.

Green-Wood Cemetery: Spring

Last Saturday it rained all day here in New York. I'm not exaggerating when I say all day—it may have even rained continuously for more than 24 hours. I love seasons and I try not to get grumpy about the weather, but rain in the city is the absolute worst. I will take extreme dog-mouth heat and below-freezing blizzard conditions over a mild spring rain any day. Part of this disdain probably comes from my inability to find a proper rain shoe, but in a city where you're forced to walk outside, rain basically ruins everything. Since I did absolutely nothing on Saturday, I was up early on Sunday, eager to get outside and do something—anything—before the rain was supposed to start up again in the afternoon.

David lives two blocks from Green-Wood Cemetery, so we headed over there to check out the spring blooms. I became enamored with the bright, beautiful azaleas at Green-Wood last spring, and I was happy to be able to catch them again this year. A few of the bushes were already past their peak, but most were spectacularly full and the contrast of the bright flowers with the dark, heavy stones and statues was so fun to photograph.

In addition to all of the beautiful flowers, Green-Wood is quite literally so green right now. The previous day's rain made everything feel so lush—I don't think that a shade of green exists that isn't currently represented in the cemetery. Ok, so maybe I just convinced myself that rain does indeed have a purpose, BUT I still contend that the perfect rain shoe does not exist.

Being surprised at the passage of time is such a boring thing to talk about, but I was trying to think of the last time I was at Green-Wood and realized that it was back in February after a big snowfall—it barely looks as if it could be the same place. That variation is one of my favorite things about seasons. I understand how people could be intolerant of long winters or humid summers, but I think I'd die of boredom in a place with consistent weather and no seasons.

While we were walking around, we noticed that there were a lot more visitors than normal, and it took me a while to realize that it was because it was Mother's Day. I actually feel really strange when I run into other people in cemeteries, and it's not uncommon for me to be (or at least feel as if I'm) totally alone. Green-Wood is a popular place for tourists (although it feels weird calling cemetery visitors "tourists"), but with so many people actively visiting graves and mourning, I often felt as if I was intruding.

I visit cemeteries so frequently, focusing on the typography, design and history of the stones that it's easy to forget that each stone represents a person or persons. Someone who lived a life—however long, short, easy, hard, complicated, virtuous, painful or joyful—and it seems unfair that they don't get to enjoy the beautiful landscape beneath which they're interred. 

Green-Wood: Snow

As much as I've visited Green-Wood Cemetery, I only just took my second snowy walk around the grounds on Saturday. My first snowy visit (here and here) was back in 2015, and I didn't have many chances during last year's virtually snow-less winter. When I realized that last week's snowfall would stick around for a few days, I knew that Green-Wood was my top priority.

Snowy cemeteries are a combination of two of my very favorite things in life, although in the city it has sometimes been a challenge to get into them. I was denied entry to Woodlawn on not one, but two snowy days, and Green-Wood closes its gates during most storms. I did manage to explore Trinity Cemetery in northern Manhattan after one of my failed Woodlawn treks, and the photos I took that day are still some of my favorites.

I was very excited to see Green-Wood again in the snow, but I was concerned that after countless visits I wasn't going to see much that I hadn't already seen or photographed before. I'm fond of saying that I could explore places like Green-Wood forever and still manage to see something new, but I definitely think I'll eventually test the limits of that theory. Almost immediately, though, I veered into a part of the cemetery that I hadn't explored—and even if I hadn't, everything looks a little bit different in the snow.

I made some questionable decisions veering off of cleared paths to investigate interesting things—the snow drifts were almost knee-deep in places—but it was definitely worth a little slipping and sliding. I walked to Green-Wood from my apartment (stopping for diner breakfast halfway) and to me there is no more perfect way to spend a Saturday.

Green-Wood Cemetery: Fall

I've noticed since I moved to New York, that the fall foliage in the city is slower to turn than in other parts of the country. Even just a few miles upstate can make a huge difference in color, and while most the East Coast and Midwest is at peak or past peak, it feels as if the city leaves have just begun to change. I've recognized this in past years, and by now I've come to appreciate the delay.

October is always my busiest month, but come November my calendar is always empty. I feel like I still have plenty of time to enjoy fall in the city, which is good since there is really no better time to explore—especially when it comes to cemetery strolls. Which is why, when my dude asked on Sunday if I'd like to walk through Green-Wood Cemetery, I said "of course."

Some trees were at their peak already, but others were still mostly green (and one hardy rose bush was in full bloom!). The colorful backdrops make for some really excellent contrasts with the stark stones. I'll never tire of taking photos in cemeteries, and they're the perfect place to really practice your photography—they're usually empty and filled with beautiful and stationary (or so you hope) subjects.

The weather recently has been fall at its finest, and it's already impossible for me to imagine that I was sweating though everything I own just a few weeks ago. I never thought I would have what I consider to be my "neighborhood" cemetery, but since moving to Brooklyn I've really come to cherish my time spent at Green-Wood. To be able to walk just a few blocks to a world-class cemetery is such a luxury, and I can't imagine every tiring of its beauty.

Green-Wood Cemetery: Statues

Before stumbling upon the mossy tombstone jackpot on a recent trip through Green-Wood Cemetery, I had been paying particular attention to the statues I came across. I mentioned that Green-Wood is so large that picking a specific theme makes a walk through the cemetery seem manageable and like I'm on a little scavenger hunt. I'm less likely to become overwhelmed, and more likely to see things I might not notice on a macro level.

Statues really humanize a cemetery experience, much more than words on a tombstone ever could. A lot of the statues are not of the deceased exactly—although I always come across I suspect are done in a specific likeness—but represent general themes such as mourning or are a nod to the afterlife or reproduce religious imagery. Angels or cherubs are very common, and although they usually follow a prescribed look—women with wings and draped gowns—it's remarkable how many variations you can find on a simple premise.

This time I noticed three separate statues of women with similar hairstyles, dresses and poses, and they appeared to be pregnant, which I've never seen before. Green-Wood also has its fair share of creepy children statues—which I assume are sculpted to actually look like the deceased—and although I have no use for living children in my life, their haunting stone counterparts are some of my favorite finds.

Mourning women are very common, including those that look as if they're weeping as well as those who could be mistaken for a visitor, holding flowers, wreaths or other offerings. Statues of men are less common—I once read that a high percentage of magazine covers feature women because women like to compare themselves to other women, and men like to look at women, and I wonder if the same idea applies to cemetery statues. The statues I did find of men tend to be mostly portraits, and the generic male sculptures I've seen have a very angelic, almost feminine look to them. I did also find one dog sculpture during this visit, and although I realize that each sculpture represents the loss of an actual human life, it's the thought of a faithful canine companion guarding his owner's final resting place that will always make me tear up.

Green-Wood Cemetery: Moss

On a recent walk through Green-Wood Cemetery (aka my happy place), I noticed that a lot of headstones were covered in moss, algae and/or lichen. I've already established that I know absolutely nothing about plants or greenery so I'm not entirely clear on the difference between the three, or sure that those are the only greenish things that grow on headstones. But what I am sure of is that a moss-covered tombstone is creepy and beautiful, and Green-Wood is lousy with them right now.

I happened upon a particular spot in the cemetery where almost every stone was covered, and it doesn't appear to have much to do with the composition of the stone itself—although the older and more porous a stone, I'm sure the more likely it is to be host to any and all creeping flora. Whenever I see one stone covered in ivy or any type of growth it makes me wonder how it was chosen as a host above all the others. I happen to extra-love any stone that looks overgrown and forgotten, and if I intended to have a tombstone of my own one day (I don't, despite my love of cemeteries) I would love nothing more than to have it entangled in ivy.

I've been to Green-Wood so many times now—and it's such an overwhelmingly large space—that narrowing my focus helps me to not jump around frantically feeling as if I'm missing something. Green-Wood does such a wonderful job of maintaining the stones and the space, that it's a testament to that maintenance that it's actually quite rare (in my experience) to find anything remotely crumbling or unkempt in the cemetery.

Green-Wood Cemetery: Azaleas

I've walked through Green-Wood Cemetery more times than I can count—I think it's safe to say it's my most frequented cemetery by a long shot. I've even been a member of Green-Wood for almost a year, which may seem weird but they put on some very excellent programs and I can't think of any membership that suits me more than one to a cemetery.

I've so far explored Green-Wood in summer, fall and winter but I hadn't fully experienced spring in the cemetery until recently. The cherries and other flowering trees are currently past their peak, but the azaleas are out-of-this-world beautiful. The pinks, purples, reds and oranges are so blindingly bright and colorful, it's hard to even believe that they're real.

I'm pretty hopeless when it comes to identifying plants, so I never would have imagined that there were so many azalea shrubs on the grounds. It's hard to believe that in a short time these thousands of incredible flowers will all be gone, replaced by inconspicuous green leaves. Spring blooms are so fleeting, but they make such a huge impact in such a short time and I'm trying not to take them for granted during their brief appearance.

Being able to see Green-Wood (and other places I love) in all seasons is really such a treat. It's fascinating to me how different the exact same place can look whether it's covered in snow, falling leaves, lush greenery or bright blooms. The crazy saturated colors of the azaleas perfectly contrast with the somber gray and black headstones in the best way. Now that I've officially explored Green-Wood in all seasons it's impossible to pick a favorite one—and luckily I live so close that I don't have to choose.

Green-Wood Cemetery: Fall

Moving to Brooklyn has been wonderful for me in many ways, but one of the most unexpected joys has been my proximity to Green-Wood Cemetery. I've been there countless times since I moved in August, and it's frequently becoming one of my most-visited spots in the city.

We went on a short walk through Green-Wood on Black Friday, when the weather was unseasonably warm and sunny. I can't think of a better anecdote to the $10 flatscreen brawls at Wal-Mart than a walk through a beautiful, historic cemetery and you don't get any better in that department than Green-Wood. I've still yet to cover all of its sprawling grounds, and I discover new delights each time I go even in the sections that I've frequented.

Some of the highlights included some interesting stone inscriptions—"Mother and Sister," "Mother and Son," "Father and Daughter," and the heartbreakingly sweet "They Made Home Happy." I also found a funeral traffic cone, some wonderful worn faces, bricked up mausoleums and one very vigilant dog, guarding his owners graves for all of eternity.

I had a hard time finding any truly spectacular leaf displays this fall, but the best foliage I did find was in cemeteries, specifically Woodlawn and of course Green-Wood. The Japanese maples really came to work this year, and the yellows (never my favorite leaf color) were striking and seemed to hold out a little longer than everything else, which mostly just turned brown and then fell off.

Green-Wood Cemetery

I feel as if I'm forever explaining and defending my love of cemeteries. I insist that I don't find them sad or creepy, but instead consider them peaceful, lovely places to spend a leisurely afternoon. I'm fascinated by their history and the histories of their residents; by the design of the stones and by the symbolism and trends that dictate those designs. And this is true the majority of the time, but every once in a while I do see things in cemeteries that creep me out or make me sad. I guess I sort of even like those things, and I definitely do seek them out even if I'm not entirely sure why.

I've been to Green-Wood cemetery more frequently than any other cemetery, and while I've still not managed to see it all, I've tried to explore parts of the cemetery that aren't as frequented by visitors and tours. Since it is Halloween week, I thought I'd share some of the things I've found on recent visits that have made me happy to have found something a little different, and creeped me out a little at the same time.

Statues and figures are always my favorite things to look at in cemeteries, and Green-Wood has some incredible ones. The more disfigured they've become due to age and weather the better. There's pretty much nothing creepier than a mourner or creepy child topping a headstone that's missing a face, or fingers or hands (or all of the above). Except of course the hooded mourner that I came across recently, which earns the distinction of being the single creepiest/scariest grave marker I've seen yet.

Then of course there are mausoleums and vaults, most of which are kept in impeccable condition at Green-Wood. I was surprised recently to find myself in an area of the cemetery that was more run-down than I'm used to seeing, with a handful of mausoleums that were bricked-up, over-grown and generally felt forgotten.

And because I always have Sleepy Hollow on the mind around this time of year, I was thrilled to stumble upon a plot for a Van Tassel—no indication that they're related to the real family that inspired Washington Irving, but a girl can dream.

Green-Wood Cemetery

I just recently became a member of Green-Wood Cemetery, which is very much something that I would do. Everyone I've told is initially confused as to the benefits of being a member of a cemetery ("Do you get to be buried there?"), but it's something I've considered doing for a while. It ultimately just made sense financially—there's a tour I want to take that is essentially the same price as a membership, which includes one free tour pass—but I also just feel good supporting a place I love so much.

My dude actually lives about a block from Green-Wood (major pro) and on our way to Prospect Park on Saturday he mentioned that we could walk through Green-Wood "if I wanted," and of course the answer was "yes!" It was my first visit as an official member, which of course means nothing but it still makes me happy that I'm supporting the cemetery, even if it's in a very small way.

We walked through a part of the cemetery that I had never explored before—as much as I've been to Green-Wood, it's so big that I still haven't seen it all. Green-Wood is just so incredibly beautiful and picturesque, especially on a bright, sunny day like Saturday. We saw some wonderful statues (that dead-eyed girl will probably haunt me for the rest of my life), peeked into the mausoleums (added another Egyptian-style one to my favorites list and saw a great monument/mausoleum combo), and found some awesome headstones (Coffin!).

I can't really wrap my head around the fact that I was walking through a snow-covered Green-Wood just a few months ago, and that before I know it I'll be crunching through the fall leaves as I peek  inside the mausoleums on the annual open house tour.

Snowy Green-Wood Cemetery: Part Two

I took so many photos of Green-Wood in the snow, that I decided to break them up into two posts. As I was looking through them, I noticed that I was particularly interested in the statues, so here are my favorites from that snowy walk:

I'm still sad that our trip to Woodlawn was foiled by the snow and a grumpy security guard because I can't stop thinking about how beautiful it all looked covered in snow. I would love to go back to Green-Wood right after a snowstorm and catch some of these statues actually covered a bit more.

Angels are always my favorite cemetery statues but one gets bonus points if it's missing arms, or—my very favorite—its head. I love the way they weather and crumble, how they get covered in moss or lichen, and how desperately mournful they can look. It's one thing to read a kind inscription or see a name, but its another thing entirely to see a weeping angel, bent over a headstone in eternal despair.

Snowy Green-Wood Cemetery: Part One

Snowy Green-Wood Cemetery: Part One

One of the first things I thought of when I heard that we had a snow day last week was "I should go to Green-Wood Cemetery," (that's totally normal, right?). The cemetery was closed all day, unfortunately, although I did get to walk by it (after my walk through Prospect Park) and peek through the fence. It looked incredible in the snow, and Sunday I finally made my way inside.

The roads were plowed, and some of the snow had started to melt but it was just as beautiful as I had imagined. As much as I love cemeteries and snow, I had only ever been to Calvary Cemetery in the winter, and on a warm day when most of the snow had already melted. I knew I wanted to make a snowy cemetery visit a priority this winter, and this was the first significant snowfall we've had this year. 

Sunday was a beautiful day and luckily not bitterly cold. I walked around for about two hours and didn't even have to keep my gloves on. Some of the snow drifts were pretty deep, but it was so peaceful and I barely saw anyone else on my walk. I hadn't been to Green-Wood since the open house tour this past fall, and it was great seeing some of my favorite mausoleums and statues against the beautiful snow. 

No matter how many times I go to Green-Wood, I always see something new and interesting. This time, the "transplanted children" headstone wins for strangest stone I saw, and I know I've said it before but it just doesn't get any better than a pyramid-shaped, Egyptian-themed mausoleum. Also, since the trees have lost their leaves, the view of Manhattan and the Statue of Liberty from Battle Hill is currently perfect—I can't think of a better place in the world to spend all of eternity.

Green-Wood Cemetery Open House

Last Saturday Jim and I had tickets to the annual Open House at Green-Wood Cemetery in Brooklyn. We had been looking for a ghost or cemetery tour to take during October, and when I read that they would be opening the doors to some of the mausoleums and the catacombs I knew that we had found our tour.

The day ended up being so awesome, and Green-Wood is just so magical and beautiful that I went back for Sunday's tour as well. By the end of the weekend I had seen inside 15 mausoleums in addition to every room contained within the catacombs and I couldn't have been happier.

Most of the mausoleums were more ornate on the outside than on the inside, but it was so exciting to actually get to step inside of the iron gates and granite doors that are always closed so tightly. There was a volunteer or two stationed at each mausoleum in period costume, ready to recite the story of the family contained within. We learned about John Anderson, the tobacco shop owner who employed (and was later suspected of murdering) the "beautiful cigar girl," Mary Rogers; John LaFarge, a stained glass maker and Tiffany rival; Valentine Mott the ambidextrous surgeon; Henry Steinway, the original piano man; and Albert Ross Parsons, pianist and Egyptologist (guess which mausoleum is his).

The stories were all so fascinating and uniquely New York, featuring famous families such as the Schermerhorns, Whitneys, Durants and Niblos. There was even one mausoleum designed by Stanford White himself and built using steps from the original New York Public Library (Stewart's, at the beginning of this post).

One of the coolest things about each of the mausoleums was the keys. Most of the ones we saw had their original keys dangling from the door—huge, heavy and incredibly beautiful old keys that are kept in the front office and available to families any time they wish to have access to their respective mausoleums.

I've spent countless hours wandering around cemeteries, standing on my tip toes, trying to peek inside the gates of mausoleums just hoping to catch a glimpse inside. I never imagined that I would one day be welcomed and even encouraged to snoop around such iconic tombs. Some of the interiors were in less-than ideal condition, which was kind of sad—a majority of them had water damage, some contained broken bits of statues and headstones and there was even one with a cardboard box sitting in the corner filled with broken pieces of what was once its stained glass window.

The creepiest thing I saw, however, was the marker on a wall inside of the catacombs that had tiny little handprints all over it. While I realize that they are probably raccoon pawprints, it was still super weird to see them and made me wonder how the critter(s) managed to get inside the sealed doors (maybe they were on the tour?) and why they were only on Henry C. Hadley's marker and not anywhere else within the catacombs?

It was a wonderful kick-off to October and all of its impending fall delights. This is my favorite month and time of year (if that wasn't already obvious) and I'm so excited that, at least for a little while, it will be perfectly acceptable to take cemetery tours, talk about dead things and wear my skull-and-crossbones socks.