I pretty much did nothing for 14 days. It was glorious.
By the time Matt got home everyday, boredom had usually begun to take hold. One lovely afternoon, I convinced him to go on a drive with me. I wanted to take pictures of something besides Oscar Bob and Grayce. I mean, I love them, but I need new subject matter. I'm really getting into this camera, if you haven't noticed.
So he drove toward Flora, looking for nothing in particular. I saw this group of horses, and I wanted to take pictures of them. I love horses. And cows. I really love cows. I've been telling Matt that I need to own a cow someday. I don't know what it is about them. I just want one. Can I have a cow for a pet? I don't see why not. I would just love to photograph it, pet it, milk it. I'm being serious.
Anyway, I wanted to photograph these horses. They're beautiful creatures. Majestic. Well, we pulled into this little cemetery that bordered the pasture about the time the horses all started trotting away from us, toward a truck. I guess they were about to be fed. So much for my horse photo op. Much to my surprise, Matt started wandering around this cemetery. [Matt does not do cemeteries.] It was small, and most of the graves were from the 1800s or very early 1900s, many of them Civil War veterans' graves. We spent the next hour reading interesting things on very large tombstones and taking pictures. Weird? Maybe. But I loved some of the pictures.
That is a little baby's headstone that I'm assuming was probably placed at the foot of a much younger, smaller version of this tree. Fast forward 130 years, and the tree and its roots have grown all around it. I just thought it was interesting to physically see how time had passed. It looked safe and protected in the embrace of the tree. I liked it. Matt thought it was creepy. Of course.
To be continued.