In a recovering, but still distressed, Baltimore neighborhood I found a sheltered, all but private, walking wood. Traffic noise is muted, birds sing, squirrels romp, and spring showcases her newest releases. The Green Mount Cemetery, established in 1839, was one of the first garden cemeteries (as opposed to churchyards) in the United States. Its palatial entry displays stern warnings against trespassers, but we have only to sign in to become privileged visitors. History lovers, bird watchers, and tour groups come from miles around, yet aside from a few maintenance workers, I’ve yet to see another living soul.
My first walk, swathed in light fog, was wonderfully otherworldly, as if the stones and statues stood long forgotten, collecting moss and centuries while the world went wrong without them.