Is it just me?

I'm the only house on my block. I live about a quarter of the way down. I'm surrounded by open space like this:
And this:

I love it. I do not own the entire street. A farmer owns part, and the town owns part. When the town decided to sell, people were up in arms. Would they sell to developers who would change the rural character of the street? Turns out, no. They sold to a cemetery. Ohhh, how fitting! There's a little cemetery right on the street!

According to the newly erected sign, the first burial was in 1811.

There's also a soldier who fought in the Revolutionary War.

It's hard to read, but Rob and I think this is the stone for the 1811 guy.

And this picture just captures the beauty of the old cemetery. It's full of old, thin stones that have heaved up.

These are itty bitty stones whose etchings have worn away.

If I end up buried in this cemetery, here's where I want to be buried. It's toward the middle (not near the street!) and under the shade. I doubt I'll like sunshine any more when I'm dead than I do now.

So I had this vision of occasional visitors to our quiet little street, slowly burying their loved ones, people with histories, stories, and connections, slowly creating a place of memories that fade to memorials.

Instead, this happened:

(I'm rather proud of the picture, though. See how I pieced it together? Click on it for the big view.) It's a major construction site. It's full of heavy equipment completely restructuring the landscape. They cut down all the trees and bulldozed all the plants. It's a big dirt pit now.

In 1811, people got shovels out and dug a hole across the street. It was probably people who loved him. Now the cemetery is a commodity: "Hey folks, shopping around for a cemetery? Come on down to ours and check it out!" That septic system must mean flush toilets, and while they're at it, they might decide that a Starbucks would be nice for the mourners.

I live in the farm house on the street. It was built in the 1860's. I wonder how many people in that cemetery have lived in my house. I know of at least one. Living in this house, it just seems like you should be buried there. Many of the names on the stones are the same as the names on the local streets. This new cemetery just seems so corporate.

I just don't think the image of the construction workers on their heavy equipment will ever feel right when compared to my made-up image of people in wool on a hot summer day burying grandpa, not even knowing they were starting a cemetery.