To step in, is to step back. A haunted atmosphere permeates Old Cove Cemetery in East Haddam, Connecticut, not because it’s a graveyard populated with ghosts of those buried, but because time seems to have frozen centuries ago.
Located a couple tenths of a mile down a narrow dirt byway lacking a street sign or name on a map, you don’t find Old Cove by happenstance. You have to know it’s there, to seek it out. A few driveways branch off the tree-and-brush-edged road where a couple structures are barely visible during leaf-out. Suddenly an opening appears, insular and quiet, dotted with gravestones and surrounded by a palisade of forest. Established in the 1690s, “this is as close as the twentieth century can come to showing what a colonial burying ground actually looked like,” wrote scholar James A. Slater in the 1996 revision to his epic book on colonial cemeteries of eastern Connecticut. Two decades into the twenty-first century, his words are even more profound.