Frigid Cemetery Photography

Sitting here typing away on a Saturday morning, waiting for tomorrow’s expected blizzard. I’m between catastrophes, so I have some time to gather my thoughts. These past three weeks of frigid temperatures have taken their toll on my friends and neighbors, who suffered burst pipes, floods, and fires. Over the years, I’ve had my turn in the barrel so I feel fortunate that my biggest challenge right now is where to park my car tonight so that it will be easy to dig out tomorrow. Might need to hit a cemetery in the snow.

The fluffy stuff has slowly begun to melt. I am looking forward to wearing regular shoes. Its been so damned cold with the snow and ice that took weeks to go away, I’d had to wear boots everywhere. Including last weekend’s trip to a couple of cemeteries.

1855 Gatehouse, Mount Moriah Cemetery, Philadelphia

The previous Saturday morning was spent at the volunteers meeting in Philadelphia’s Mount Moriah Cemetery – two hours of meeting time with my toes frozen in the old office building. This ended with a rousing demonstration by a falconer with her owl and hawk - indoors! I often tell people that I do not have normal friends. Normal bores the daylights out of me (to paraphrase the Stones). Prior to that, I killed a bit of time in Lansdowne, PA’s Fernwood Cemetery, a couple miles up the road. I did some frigid photography there.

Stark, raving cold.

In Fernwood, it was 14 degrees with a 45 mph wind. Who knew what the wind chill was (-13 degrees, I think). I figured shooting would be limited as I wasn’t going to be jumping out of the car much. In an ice-covered cemetery, its difficult to compose your masterpiece while you’re trying hard not to fall on your ass. So, a zoom lens and a camera out the car window was my plan. Being out there at the mercy of nature is terrifying but cathartic. 

It was colder than Christmas. Roads were plowed throughout the property, which was quite a feat, actually. If you had not plowed and shoveled the day those nine inches of snow fell weeks ago on January 25th (2026), there was no way to do that a day hence. The sleet and ice that followed solidified the concretion so that nothing could penetrate. Roads and sidewalks everywhere in the Philadelphia area were treacherous for the next three weeks. So why not attempt to navigate some cemetery ice fields?

Far from spring, plastic flowers punctuate the ice fields

As much as I’d like to disagree with Joan Didion when she says that happiness is a consumption ethic, I would not be driving around in an ice-covered cemetery in frigid weather if the built landscape was not there. These monuments are a very obvious form of consumerism, and maybe because of that I find this landscape much more interesting than a field of flowers or a sunset on the bay. To paraphrase the Stones again, let’s do some living after they’ve died.

Looks like one of those old Victorian etchings of a cemetery, right?

However, when you can’t open the car door due to the insane wind gusting across the permafrost, you begin to question your life choices. Torrents of powdery snow in the low contrast landscape seemed like a fast-moving fog monster. BUT, you can always power-wind the windows down to shoot, right? Except – the passenger window stuck about four inches down! I could hear the winding motor straining inside the door. Cold! Snow blowing inside! Fumbled quickly with the electric window lock switch, thinking that I had hit that by accident! But no, the window seemed stuck. I hit the rocker switch both up and down, back and forth, but the window just fidgeted. Like an idiot, I hit the driver’s side window switch to see if that would go down. I was torn between getting the windows open in order to shoot some photos, and having them stuck open.

Silhouette snowscape, Fernwood Cemetery

Fear Factor Fernwood: Now the driver’s side window is also stuck open about four inches and I’m getting pelted with snow! I’m in a sound bath of a howling gale! Prayed to all the known gods - you know, those gods you pray to when you realize in the morning that you left your wallet on the seat of your car overnight?

I put the RAV in gear and quickly drove down the hill toward the community mausoleum, thinking the building would break the wind. I wonder if Andrew Wyeth ever experienced this sort of thing when he would drive to a snowy location in his vehicle, break out his paints, and create a painting on a canvas propped on his dashboard? According to his granddaughter, Victoria Wyeth, her grandfather loved the snow and would have driven right out to capture the beauty of the world after a storm. Absently, I hit the window rocker switches and both windows motored up and closed. Thanks Andy.

Deep sea diver in the snow, Fernwood Cemetery, Lansdowne, PA

I ended up with some images from Fernwood that I really like, some of which you see here. The color images seem less cold than the black and whites, but they do make you feel all the feels, right? I drove around a bit more but didn’t risk getting out or rolling down the windows. This final image was shot through my windshield as a sort of frozen fog enveloped my vehicle like some past-life regression. I finished typing this up on a Saturday, and then Sunday night into Monday, our area has another snowstorm planned. Guess where I’m going Monday after work? So many cemeteries, so little time.

Philadelphia Cemeteries that Mark Our Nation’s 250th Birthday – Part 1

Did you know that there are about twenty cemeteries in the center city Philadelphia area that were actually in existence in 1776? As we celebrate our nation’s birth this year – 2026 – we’ll have a look at some historical landmarks that are actually land. Land, that is, that still holds the remains of the people who were alive when the Declaration of Independence was signed on July 4, 1776!

Betsy Ross' grave, Mount Moriah Cemetery

My goal is to write a short series of posts over the spring of 2026 so you can virtually visit many of these Colonial-era burial grounds with me. This initial post will serve as an introduction to more in-depth posts that will follow. I plan to discuss in detail many of these cemeteries, their history, their occupants, and their importance to the history of Philadelphia and America as a nation. We’ll also cover certain Philadelphia “landmarks” that are fake. Or perhaps I should call them reasonable facsimiles. Unlike the Betsy Ross House and the building where Jefferson authored the Declaration of Independence, these cemeteries are the real deal. These are the actual grounds that our forefathers walked on and are buried in. True history, zero fabrication. By the way, not only is the “Betsy Ross House” not Betsy Ross’ house, but she is also not buried there! (She’s buried at Mount Moriah Cemetery in southwest Philadelphia.)

 

Betsy Ross stone marker at the Betsy Ross House, Philadelphia

In January, 2026, I presented this material in a virtual lecture hosted by the Preservation Alliance of Greater Philadelphia. Thank you to everyone who attended and participated in the spirited Q&A session afterward! If anyone has comments or questions related to the post you’re reading now, please comment at the end, or you can reach me at Ed.Stoneangels@gmail.com.

Betsy Ross House, 239 Arch Street

The photo you see at the beginning of this article shows Washington Square, at Seventh and Walnut Streets. From 1704 to 1794, the square served as a Potters Field, a burial ground for people not associated with a church or other private organization. Thousands are buried beneath its fountain, monuments, and well-manicured lawns. Yellow fever victims, criminals, and strangers who died passing through town were buried here. It also served as a mass grave for Washington’s soldiers who died fighting the British prior to the British occupation of Philadelphia in 1777. (Read more here.)

The Potters Field that is Washington Square Park, Seventh and Walnut Streets

But lets go back a bit further in time. Our American ancestors buried their dead in the ground because this was the European tradition brought to America by our forefathers, mainly immigrants from Europe. This is one reason why we don’t have more sky burials of burn our dead on funeral pyres in the town square, as other cultures do. In-ground burial in America remains popular hundreds of years later.

Original 1761 Old St. Paul's Church building and graveyard (Third and Walnut Streets.)

The population of Philadelphia grew from 2,000 in 1700 to 30,000 by 1776. As the city grew, more and more burial grounds were needed. In 1776, the city itself was comprised of only 1200 acres! The entire city was bordered on the north by Spring Garden Street, the South by Christian Street, the west by Eighth Street, and the east by the Delaware River (click to see map). Outside those borders were farms and woods. And pirates, of course, who used Petty’s Island (off the coast of Pennsauken, New Jersey) as an anchorage point – but that’s another story. It is estimated that within these 1200 acres, 120 cemeteries existed in 1776!

Of these 120, many were small, like family plots on private land. But some were large like the First Baptist Church of Philadelphia Burial Ground (est. 1707, currently buried under the pavement at 218 Arch Street) with an estimated 5,000 graves. Now, just because a graveyard is only the size of a city block, this does not mean it only accommodates a few hundred burials. Palmer Burial Ground in Fishtown, for instance, takes up the area of one city block. It was established around 1732 and holds an estimated 40,000 burials! And it is STILL an active cemetery! Many colonial-era cemeteries and graveyards in Philadelphia not only remain active, but remain current and contemporary, as can be seen from this sign on the front of Old Pine Street Presbyterian Church at Fourth and Pine Streets (est. 1764).

Bob Weir of the Grateful Dead died January 10, 2026.

Only about twenty of these original 120 city cemeteries can still be visited. The fact that any of them exist at all is a credit to their owners (typically churches and synagogues). Most of the 120 were either moved or built over as the city grew. For a map of where all these burial grounds are located, I direct you to the website of the Philadelphia Archaeological Forum, and their interactive map of historic burial grounds. https://www.phillyarchaeology.net/historic-philadelphia-burial-places-map/

Not only can you see all the sites, but also the name of the burial ground, when and if it was moved, as well as where the graves were moved to – if they were moved at all. As I say, some graveyards, like the Bethel Burial Ground at 400 Catherine Street (in Queen Village), still lie undisturbed beneath our streets, playgrounds, and parking lots. Five thousand very quiet neighbors reside beneath Weccacoe Playground’s tennis court and community center (red building in the background in photo below).

Weccacoe Playground at 400 Catherine Street

Here's an interesting exercise - look for your residence (or workplace) in center city Philadelphia on the PAF interactive map and see if there is a burial ground beneath that location. You may even consider looking up your friends’ and neighbors’ homes to see if they might be living over a graveyard – always a fascinating topic for discussion.  

So as we go forward, and visit specific cemeteries, here are a few topics I will cover:

• ·        Cemeteries as landmarks
• ·        Significance of historic cemeteries
• ·        Growth of the city and need for cemeteries
• ·        Significance of gravemarkers (tangible reminders)
• ·        Cemetries that disappeared
• ·        Preservation - How cemeteries stay in business

Christ Church Burial Ground, Fifth and Arch Streets

So when friends and relatives come to Philadelphia this year to celebrate our nation’s 250^th birthday, the United States' Semiquincentennial, consider a walking tour of its Colonial-era cemeteries and graveyards! (By the way, a graveyard is technically a burial ground associated with a church, while a cemetery is a secular, or non-religious burial ground.) Join me next time for Part 2 of Philadelphia Cemeteries that Mark Our Nation’s 250th Birthday!

 

The Zen of the Snow-Covered Cemetery

The snowstorm began on Sunday, January 25, and got more intense as the day progressed. By noon, it was relentless. The Philadelphia area expected about six inches of snow, but it soon turned to sleet and became untenable. If you were driving in a cemetery – like me – you were hard-pressed to stay on the recently plowed roads. I found myself driving on the lawn in the blinding snow at one point. Kind of reminded me of the time near Snowmass, Colorado, when my friend Mike was driving us through a snowstorm in his Subaru. The car was creeping slowly forward, but we could see nothing through the windshield. I rolled down the passenger window to get a less foggy view, and right next to us were tall hedges! “Um, Mike? I think we’re in someone’s yard….”

Gates open, roads plowed ...

So why would I be driving around a cemetery in a snowstorm? The question is, why would you NOT be driving around a cemetery in a snowstorm? Unique experience! With the snow-covered monuments and statues, it is like immersing yourself in a dynamic art installation! The zen of a snow-covered cemetery is difficult to put into words. There is a state of attentiveness that happens clearly in such an environment in such a situation. As Brad Warner says in his book, Hardcore Zen, its not enlightenment, and "yet there is something, and even though this experience doesn't change anything at all, it changes everything." 

I was there at 9:30 a.m., when the cemetery opened. This was hours before the radio started pleading with people to stay off the roads unless it’s an emergency. I knew it was going to snow the night before, so I planned on hitting Holy Cross Cemetery in Yeadon, PA (which borders Philadelphia where I live, on the west side). It is one of my go-to cemeteries because it has lots of low statues that get covered with snow. It is also relatively convenient for me to get there and I know that unlike Woodlands Cemetery in West Philly, Holy Cross plows its roads.

The snow was soft as it fell, and I made a few quick statue photographs but JESUS CHRIST was it cold (see above)! And windy! With chemical hand warmers in my gloves, hood up over my head, I kept the SUV running with the heater on full blast as I jumped out every few minutes to photograph something. To drive through a snow-covered cemetery is one of the reasons God gave us SUVs. God, however, cannot prevent you from locking yourself out of it in a snowstorm like I experienced about fifteen years ago. Always never do that.

I was careful not to slip in the snow (which was getting deeper) as I walked amidst the gravestones. The whiteout made it easier to spot the ceramic memorial photographs on the stones. I don’t think I’d ever seen this one before, even though I’d been in Holy Cross countless times. Might be a postmortem photo, not sure. Snow and bitter cold changes your perspective, as well as your tolerance for pain.

Postmortem image?

The trucks were re-plowing the roadways during the 90 minutes or so that I was there. Saw a small herd of deer running away from the plow truck at one point. The workers must have thought I was nuts. Or maybe they thought I was true to my art. Naw, they probably just thought I was nuts. When the snow started to fall more and more heavily, it was with less and less alacrity that I would stop and jump out to make a photograph. I only strung lights on a couple statues as it was just too cold to work the fine wires and switches on the battery packs. But like Christmas, its not over, ‘til its over, and you throw away the tree (from the Louden Wainwright song, Suddenly its Christmas). I finally resorted to just shooting out the window with a zoom lens.

Driving became virtually impossible. Defrosted snow turned to ice on my wiper blades, requiring a stop every few minutes with attempts to pull enough ice off the wipers so I could sort of see through the windshield. Then came the sleet. This storm, and driving a vehicle in it, just became a discordant experience. When I finally left the cemetery and got to the main roads, vehicles were stuck everywhere, on small inclines, at intersections. Again, it reminded me of Colorado. Once I was invited by a group of British friends to ski the Arapaho Basin with them. The mountain was higher and more remote than I was used to. It began to snow heavily as we began to descend from the top. My goggles fogged up and they left me for dead. Ah, good times.

So why would I put myself through this? If I lived in Colorado, this sort of storm would be a more quotidian event. However, Philadelphia rarely sees this heavy a snowfall. So, when such a gift is bestowed upon us, I view it as an impact opportunity not to be squandered. That said, getting stuck in a snowbank on the highway is not my jam. I did have to back down an on-ramp to Interstate 95 near the airport because a small clot of cars was blocking my progress. Seems the highway maintenance vehicles plowed the snow against the on and off ramps, blocking them. As Foghorn Leghorn says, “Some people ain’t got the sense God gave a bowling ball.” 

By the next morning, the nine inches of snow was anointed with a layer of ice that only a flamethrower could penetrate. Temperatures had dropped to about eighteen degrees after the sleet storm Sunday afternoon. They dropped into the single digits over the next few days. I didn’t go back to Holy Cross Cemetery during the week because with the snow sleeted over, this concretion became nine inches of ice. My friend Linda, in my neighboring state of Delaware, calls this “snowcrete.” You take your life in your hands trying to climb through/over a crosswalk. It is relatively easy to do a James Brown split on the ice if you aren’t careful. Owwww! (screamed in a high-pitched James Brown-type vocal).

I did spend a few hours after work during the week driving through various cemeteries in the area, shooting bleached snowscapes and every once in a while, getting out of my vehicle to shoot something up close. The close shots were rare, because even though roads were plowed in some Philadelphia and south Jersey cemeteries, you could not actually walk on the ice fields. Too treacherous. Too real. Didn't want to get stuck in the snow like this hearse at Laurel Hill Cemetery!

Hearse in the snow, Laurel Hill Cemetery, Philadelphia

So back to zen, and the truth found in the frozen reality of a snow-filled cemetery. There is that, but I’m also a treasure hunter, I guess, looking for that once-in-a-lifetime photograph in a snow-covered graveyard - these sophisticated built environments we make to avoid the truth. Or at least tuck it away down a side street. Attempting to make an amazing photograph is not a hobby, or a job for me – its more like an addiction, as one of the characters said in reference to wildcat oil drilling in the television series Landman. While I wish I was good enough to capture a Red-Tailed hawk plucking one of the just-released doves out of mid-air at a funeral, I must be content with shooting gravestones in the snow. I rather like this one below, which I made in Fernwood Cemetery, in Lansdowne, PA.  Kind of looks like and old Victorian lithograph, doesn't it?

While it is tempting to stay indoors where my furnace works, there is hot water to shower, and the ice box is filled with frozen burritos, I have been venturing out daily to photograph the ice in my local cemeteries. I plan to continue doing so until the city decides to remove the frozen snow, the weather gets warmer, and the rock salt barges are freed from the ice on the Delaware River (now that’s ironic).