The dead Quakers will see you now

It figures. I cycle over in the sticky heat to one of the rare tours of Prospect Park's Quaker Cemetery, and by the time I get there, there's a 40-minute estimated wait on line. At the 10-acre cemetery, which predates the park and contains some 2,000 Friends' graves, living Quakers were offering re-enactments of some of the interred residents, but I couldn't tarry that long with dinner guests on the way.

Maybe next time. In the meanwhile, I took this picture through the open gates; within, photography is apparently discouraged. (Oh, well; the headstones are reportedly very plain, and they won't tell you where Montgomery Clift is buried.) It was an interesting crowd; I chatted with a very cool woodworker from nearby Windsor Terrace, while behind me, a fellow assured a companion that he must attend next year's "Dark Shadows" convention. 

At least I hit the greenmarket this morning.  Gooseberries were there, along with the more familiar blueberries.

And, in a bonanza of wacky botanical structures, adjacent booths were selling exotica. One was the mushroom guy from Madura Farms in Goshen, displaying what appeared to be alien body parts.

             

 There was also an entire booth devoted to orchids, the Star Trek props of the flower world.

The first local peaches are in, by the way--smallish, but still peachy.

Comments

[M.Thew]

Curious that so many wanted to get in. Not so much to see that you can't see through the fence, after all, with their unstoried gravestones (to spin off from Robert Lowell's "unstoned graves").