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I walked up the hill on a mission. Big SLR in tow. It's time for its workout. I've got my little elph as a control, because, in all honesty, sometimes, or usually, it takes better pictures, but they are related so it's all OK. And, perhaps it is the user.


The cherry trees that line the fence by the local school at the top of the hill are in full bloom; a showy pale pink profusion of colour against the clear deep blue of the sky. Parked cars are in my way, and worse, obnoxious signage and wires mar the desire effect. I just cant get that image I had visualized. *sigh* Onward. The local cemetery intrigues me. All cemeteries do. It's as if I can feel the energy of the people who now inhabit the spaces under the earth.

The day seems downright cheery belied only by the bite in the air. Today is as good as any, so today is the day. I tentatively enter the cemetery even though anyone can enter. Many of the stones lay unevenly, almost haphazardly as if they were strewn as not so much carefully placed. Some of the markers have sunk into the soft hands of the damp earth. I kneel in front of some to better read what is written; the declarations and homages to loved ones passed. I marvel at the age of some of them. Many of these stones have been here longer than the person lived; a good deal of them. And some of these stones have weathered a hundred years or more of time passing.

I can't help but think about my mom who has no marker, no grave. No place where I can commune with her, should I wish. My grandparents were consigned to the same oblivion. Rumour has it that they were "misplaced" somewhere on the back forty behind my mom's house. Not a horrible fate really, it was an inspired and peaceful oasis back there; a carefully tended miscellany of flora, something my Dutch grandfather (with the proverbial green thumb) would appreciate. For a time, she herself was stowed ignominiously in a crown royal velvet bag that sat by the back door of the house. Tears begin to stream at the thought.

The day isn't as dark  as I would like for a suitably sombre and moody picture and I can't seem to find the right…angle. The results are far less than desirable. 


It was a nice day for a walk, at the very least.


About d.

a practical dreamer, a wanna be artist, a dabbler in writing, photography and whatever other shiny thing catches my fancy

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