|Buffy chillin at the local cemetery|
|I love tennis, but not this much|
Crown Hill Cemetery, located across from the Indianapolis Museum of Art (IMA), is the third largest cemetery in the nation. Its 555 acres are filled with gently rolling hills, expansive trees, and the graves of Indiana's most notable people. President Benjamin Harrison, the founder of Eli Lily Co., and the infamous bank robber John Dillinger are just a few of the recognizable names buried there. Entrance to the park is free and thousands flock to the grounds annually.
|An example of the beauty to be found within Crown Hill|
Because the cemetery gates close at 8 p.m., my 7 p.m. arrival was not well planned. I started off on foot, but quickly realized that if I continued walking, I would be spending the night in the cemetery. I know that I defended cemeteries earlier, but being locked in one for the night is decidedly creepy. All of the lofty ideals of daytime disappear when the moon replaces the sun and every breeze through the trees is a serial killer who wants to slowly disembowel me. With this paranoia in mind, I returned to the parking lot and hopped in the car.
I know that the best way to take in a new environment is on foot, but I still got a lot out of driving through the cemetery. I was able to see a much greater area of the grounds and locate the James Whitcomb Riley memorial. Driving up the hill, extravagant headstones and Grecian sculptures denoted important people.
Once I parked my car at the top of the hill, I was finally able to see the fabled skyline views from the James Whitcomb Riley memorial. Above the treeline the top of the Indianapolis skyline can be viewed. Although the Indianapolis skyline is small and not especially impressive, seeing it from this vantage point made me appreciate it more.
|View from James Whitcomb Riley Memorial|
As 8 o'clock approached, I regretted having to leave the cemetery. The expansive trees, quiet evening languor, and miles of varied stone markers made for a setting of quiet beauty. My friend and I encountered very few other people, and a feeling of blissful isolation prevailed. To complete the magical aura, a prancing deer frolicked among the scattered tombstones. (I am not kidding, this actually happened.)
Crown Hill is utterly romantic, and the vista from the James Whitcomb Riley memorial is a must see.
|Statue in the James Whitcomb Riley Memorial|
|Park of the Laments by Alfredo Jaar|
|"Igloo" where last summer two people lived self sufficiently for a month. Read about it here|