how loud the wind
in the country graveyard
first pellets of ice
Ice storm on the way. I love the sound of ice falling, both the loud clankety clank of large pieces falling off roofs and the swooshing sounds of hail falling rapidly.
This old family grave is in Yellowwood Forest. I vaguely remembered one being there, down the road from the lake toward Highway 45, but wasn't really sure. So after I had lost and recovered my son's Guatemalan hat AND my little dachshund (who has a mind of his own when he's offleash), I turned and went looking for it. And there it was, just where I remembered it at the exact place where a hiking trail intersects it.
I love the two sculptures of old trees. Not that I want a grave, but what better place to rest, under an old gnarled tree. The real ones are good enough for me.
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