We can explain this,..officer.

This time of year,it's not unusual to see columns of smoke rising hither and yon all over the county,what with folks clearing their fields in preparation for Spring planting.
But,when The Partner and I noticed white billows wafting from the woods along hi-way 70,we thought it would be prudent to investigate...Maybe some transient had left a campfire unattended,you see.

We pulled over to the side of the road,grabbed our shovels,and headed some 200 yards across the glen to the edge of the woods.
We were both surprised to discover that someone had been burning a pile of leaves,in a cemetery that neither of us knew existed!


The sign read,'Private Cemetery..Keep out',..but as everyone knows,it's okay to trespass if part of the fence was already down when you got there.
There were only about a half dozen markers,with dates reaching back to the birth of General Rob B. Moore in 1790...I assumed from the dates that Rob had probably been a General during the Civil War,but a Google search proved fruitless.
Perhaps he served in some kind of supply-line capacity,far removed from the battlefield glory his contemporaries were garnering,but I just don't know.


Even in broad daylight,there was a Gothic atmosphere surrounding this obscure corner of God's little acre..

Turns out,this sylvan setting had been the site of the original County Seat,back in the day.
(Would you classify that sentence as alliteration,or illiteration?).


I was snapping pics when The Partner called out,'Hey Sling..check this out!..Looks like there's been grave robbers here and,..'

..We both looked at each other in that way people do,when light suddenly,and simultaneously dawns on wandering fools.
I mean,..here's Igor and Renfield,standing in the middle of long hallowed ground,..brandishing shovels!

Too bad the local constabulary didn't show up right about then.
That would have been perfect..