The Uncanny Mrs. Bolton

        I ended my post about Lily Dale, NY, by mentioning a lady I talk about a lot here at the sea, Mrs. Bolton. In honor of this spooky month of October, here's a slightly spooky tale that picks up where my last post left off:

         My last visit to Lily Dale was this past July during which I received a reading much like the ones I described in my last post. Once again the medium struggled to find the identity of the woman that she "spoke for" yet her reading was relevant to the point that it was downright eerie. After the reading, my mother, who was visiting Lily Dale with me, and I discussed this mystery lady and puzzled over who it could be. If the dead can talk and if some dead lady had a message for me, who could it be? My great-grandmother? Nah, she'd never participate in such hocus-pocus and besides, if it was her all this time, she would have been sure to call me "gal." So if not her, who?

        After my visit to Lily Dale, I returned to my apartment and was trying to put together an outfit which involved digging through closets I hadn't looked in in months.  Searching for a belt, I opened a dresser drawer and low and behold- sitting right on top of everything was this picture of Mrs. Bolton:

Mrs. Bolton and Fluffy, 1982

       I could have been made a believer right then and there as I flew to the window, picture in hand, to peer up the hill at Mrs. Bolton's house (my WNY apartment faces the Bolton property). Had I seen a light on, discerned some movement or found something, anything at all, that could be construed as a sign, my skepticism would have dissolved. Alas, the house stood dark and still- no ghastly specter peered from the window or wandered the lawn.

       To my knowledge, Mrs. Bolton was a rather superstitious woman and a bit of an eccentric; She was also a collector or, to put it less politely, a hoarder. The collection of things she had amassed in her house was incredible, from the ordinary to the exotic, the common to the curious, she had it all. Years ago, while I was picking through clothing at her house, my mother was searching rooms for some special "green rocks" she remembered from spending time with Mrs. Bolton as a teenager. I'd heard of these rocks all my life and finally was able to lay my eyes on them. As it turned out, they were not rocks at all but seemingly huge chunks of green glass. Mom now has the glass proudly displayed atop the china cabinet in the dining room for all to admire, and admire they do. 

                This story told, look at what I found at Lily Dale:
This green glass is identical to what Mom rescued from Mrs. Bolton's house. 

Those I asked in Lily Dale could not tell me the significance of this rock but thanks to the magic of the internet, I found some explanation: see here. Though I have a better idea as to where the rocks may have come from, I still have no idea what significance the rocks had to Mrs. Bolton or to the folks in Lily Dale. What an odd coincidence for two places so shrouded in mystery, and hours apart geographically, to possess the same mysterious stones. 
I suppose, out of curiosity, I may have to visit the suspected source of these stones. 

     This is likely not the last slightly spooky story I'll tell about Mrs. Bolton and it's certainly not the first. If you'd like to read another ghost story, my Tale of Mrs. Bolton's post describes the odd circumstances in which I acquired my wardrobe and the even stranger way her house came to sit empty once again.

As I stated in my last post, I don't necessarily buy into any of this hokum and remain largely a skeptic when it comes to the afterlife/spiritualism/paranormal but the Bolton mystery has me fascinated. 

My entire life I've wished for a life more magical, so I'm happy to pretend that's what I've found.

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