For the past few weeks I’ve been sleeping a little later in the mornings, as if this old body was preparing for the inevitable “fall back” of the clocks. My circadian rhythms fell right in line today when I woke up at sunrise to take back the hour, seize the day, soak up the sunshine. It was a short one, that’s for sure, but the days will only get shorter until !! Christmas !! In the meantime, I’ll make the best of what’s around…

I used my Nikon to take pictures at the cemetery this week and I am very disappointed that I cannot seem to get the USB cord to transfer to my computer, so… Use your imagination: gravestones, old ones, all in a row, inscriptions barely legible, sitting precariously on their foundations. I failed to find my 2x great grandmother for certain, but I think her stone may have just aged to a point that I cannot read the name. She died in 1876 and despite the care the graveyard receives, time takes its toll.

I was cruising from Albion to Grayville, last leg of the trip, before I realized that my Mom was riding shotgun. Yes, I seriously felt her presence as I pulled in to Oak Grove cemetery where her parents are buried, but of course I would in that place on the 20th anniversary of her death. I paid my respects to Grandma and Grandpa and drove down Martin St. to see the spot where their house stood; it recently burned to the ground. There is a 5th-wheel hooked up there now, so we hustled on by, heading for my cousin Jeff’s house. When I got to the highway, for some reason (Mom) I turned right, knowing full well I should turn left, so I turned back toward the river a couple of blocks away. As soon as I turned, I realized I was on the street where Mom’s sister, Aunt Clara, used to live; that’s when I Knew For Sure that Mom was there with me. We stopped at the corner and stared for a while at the house that holds so many fond memories. It is seriously falling down, kind of sinking, and I wouldn’t want to stand under the back porch from the look of it, but I could imagine the ghosts gathered around the kitchen table, laughing and arguing. It was 20 years ago today that Aunt Clara died- yes, just four days after my Mom -and I was definitely feeling her presence, as well.

Turning back toward Jeff’s, I slowly drove by where Grandma Goodson lived — nothing there now, not even a trailer — but in my mind’s eye I could see the barn where Grandma Eaton kept her cow; her only form of refuge from her nine kids was walking down there every morning to do the milking. I finally drove on, turned again and landed at Jeff’s house.

Though I don’t have any cemetery pictures, I snapped these this evening…

I need to read five more books to meet my Reading Challenge this year, so I found some short novels that are just lovely…and brief…like this blog post.

November looks pretty boring right now, but Maybe I can find some Events this month to entertain us.

Peace