This past weekend, I was doing some additional yard work, pulling up a path of grass and weeds, or truthfully, weeds and some grass, from the front yard to create a path to lay some slate stepping stones (came out really nice so far, btw.) I didn't know what to do with the sod I'd cut out so I decided to dump it behind the garage, where I'll eventually either spread the pile out or move it to the street when we have bulk pick-up this summer. After dumping the second wheelbarrow full, I reached down and pulled a big clump of weeks from in front of and the top of what looked like a big rock that was up against the back wall of the garage. (the gate had been resting on top of it for who knows how long...at least the past four years, since we've been in the house that long.)
Well, it wasn't just any ol' rock, it turns out.
That looks a lot like a grave marker to me, right? So I leaned in a little more...
- There were two people buried in my back yard.
- My house (or one nearby) used to be occupied by a stone cutter, who left this scrap laying around.
- Someone, at some point, stole this from somewhere (possibly, I admit, the least formed theory.)
The fact that it only said Mother and Baby for some reason made me less likely to believe theory number one and lean more toward some version of number two, that this was, at least, a left over stone that had never been used. I mean, don't people generally put names on markers? I suppose that it could be for a Jane Doe or something, but still. I'd prefer to think that there's no one buried there, and the position of the stone, conveniently moved against the back wall of the garage, indicates strongly that it had been moved. So, not knowing where it had originally been, I decided not to take a shovel to the whole yard looking for skeletons (yet.)
But, being the slightly morbid person that I am (did you not know that about me?) I couldn't stop thinking about the stone, and what a cool conversation piece it would be displayed somewhere prominently in my yard. Perhaps at the head of a mound of dirt or something. You know, with some tasteful flowers? No?
So, anyway. On Wednesday, I decided to move the stone around the garage and into my back yard.
Stones are heavy. I just thought I'd get that said. I had to really work to get it into the wheelbarrow so I could wheel it around to the front of the garage. And when I did get it in, and I had to flip it over to do so, I saw this...
Well, now I was intrigued. I mean, it's not every day that you find an old grave marker just laying about your back yard, right? Unless, of course, you live next to (or in) a cemetery, in which case it probably is every day that you find grave markers in your yard; or if, perhaps, you live in a Wes Craven movie or Stephen King novel, in which case, now would have been the time to run. Fast.
[I have to tell you, something about seeing the words "George W" on a gravestone sent a nice little wave of pleasure, or anticipation through me, though I'm not sure why (in case the Secret Service sees this...)]