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The clipping this text was read from
The clipping this text was read from

back down the road a ways to the usual point of intersection with the Pignut Mountain road, parking and hoisting our packs onto our backs we began our journey. This time, however, we stuck with the old road having learned that short cuts are not always short. Good timing put us at the old Beahm homesite at about eleven o'clock. Here we unfettered ourselves from backpacks and replenished our strength with some welcomed foods and drink. After resting a spell and taking a few pictures, for proof and posterity, we headed toward the cemetery.

Hurricane Fran had played havoc with the mountains. Giant poplars lay on their sides as if loggers had been through. There was a swath about a hundred feet wide and as far as we could see, of tree upon tree toppled. It appears Fran came from the east up from Gid Brown Hollow and cut across that ridge as if some giant with a scythe was cutting hay. It sure made that short distance from the housesite to the cemetery seem twice- as far by having to maneuver through, over and around the laps. The inexperienced would not have found it to be sure, for the upper side of the cemetery was completely hidden from one's vision.

After a very circuitous route we came to the cemetery. With the pruning saw and loppers we’d taken we labored among the graves, clearing out both growing things and fallen stuff. In no time we'd made quite an impressive clearing, but were being eaten alive by gnats. I'm sure we disturbed their homes or beds and it was apparent that they were both defending their territory and having a snack with so doing.

By around two o'clock we’d finished clearing the cemetery. I might add here that I was very impressed with my cousins' aggressiveness. No man would have worked any harder or done any better job.

The gravestone of Nancy Beahm out of its base as noted in April, was recemented. Linda had consulted with

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