Two minutes, 49 seconds, of Lane Street on a breezy winter morning.
Sandy Creek spilling from the culvert under Lane Street.
The road, walking southwest.
The high bank of Rountree cemetery with its crown of honeysuckle and privet and catbrier and blackberry bramble.
Just past the ditch marking its boundary, the gravestones of Odd Fellows Cemetery hove into view.
Between the Dawson and Tate family plots, Irma Vick‘s leaning concrete marker is visible at the edge of the woods. Hers is the outlier of the Vick family plot, which is otherwise overgrown.
A remnant of the cemetery’s wall; I enter the old gateway.
The cemetery looks empty. It is not.
The city erected the two pillars at the entrance to the parking lot. They are, inaccurately, engraved “Rountree/Vick.” The parking lot bears the scorch marks of a torched vehicle. It is rarely visited by anyone with good intention.
Vick cemetery as playground.
The monument and its towering shrubs.
Video shot by Lisa Y. Henderson, February 2020.