Cemetery Walk

After work today Husband and I walked in the cemetery, something we often do when we want to talk, take in some fresh air, or just escape life for a while. We stroll out past our landlord's garage, through his wide backyard, and over to the cemetery path. There, we loop around Oak Grove Cemetery noticing flowers, critters, clouds, trees, and names on headstones. The sameness of the routine is always eclipsed by the uniqueness of that particular walk. The season, the time of day, the weather, the things we can hear in the distance, or the encounters we have with nature.

A few days ago, Husband showed me how you can roll a tiny pinecone in your fingers and close it back up tight, like an unbloomed rose. We also found the pine seeds, which are like tiny maple whirligigs hidden in the pockets between the pinecone petals.

Another time we picked buttercups and found that although nearly all buttercups have five creamy yellow petals, there are some that have eight or nine.

Once we saw a deer in the cornfield beyond the trees. Another time we watched a groundhog there. On Sunday we sat on the asphalt path and watched tiny ants meander up and down the pavement's crevices. It must have seemed mountainous to them.

Today we saw a wild brown rabbit in the short grass of the yard. We inched our way toward him, making not a sound and trying to conceal our approach with slowness. We were probably 30 yards away when he froze. We shuffled closer and he started to tremble. A few more steps, and then he bolted. Our little Bunny. One day we'll tame him.

On the cemetery path, we smelled honeysuckle and found it, sucking drops of sweet nectar from the woody flower tips.

I tracked a honeybee on his travels through the honeysuckle.

After our honey adventures, we turned our attention to the sky where science-teacher-Husband explained how far away the cumulonimbus clouds probably were. We watched an airplane cut a path through the sky, becoming tinier and tinier but never plunging into the massive white vapor mountain.

Now, as I'm curled up on the couch after a bowl of ham and corn chowder, the vapor mountain - or, more likely, a different one - has burst over the house and a steady rain is smattering over the cemetery path, the honeysuckle bush, and the short grass of the just-mowed yard. Bunny is nestled deep in some warm, dry place. Honeybee is safe in his hive. And I'm ready to snuggle down into the rainy night too.