An Old Cemetery on Memorial Day

Yesterday my man and I went to a very small cemetery, like the ones you see next to old country churhes, and went to his grandparents', great-grandparents' and great-great-grandparents'graves. Pretty cool. He expects he'll be buried there. There were two tall pine trees, and we went under one to look at the gravestone. It was like a small room with the branches drooping to the ground and hard-packed dirt underfoot and brown pine needles. The gravestone was one of those that had a small picture, but it was busted out--from the freezing and cracking, I reckon. I looked on the ground and found a small fragment. He said he'd look for pieces of it when he was small, and his family would come out to mow, but he never found any. Rather amazing.

We were standing there, and it started to gently rain. It was really beautiful and serene listening to the rain ssss-ing on the needles andthe winds barely making a soft vwrooing sound.