The day before the day before the first day of school was great. Laid back, ambling walk. Brothers getting along. The cemetery.
We spent the next day rummaging through what meager school supplies were left at Target before spending some time in the toy aisle. “We’re not buying anything today” must have been repeated more than a dozen times, followed by a near-meltdown because G could not get his hands on the Lego guys housed in a plastic-domed display case. I’m not sure why they think it’s a good idea to put all that goodness out-of-reach, especially since it’s not even possible to buy a Lego guy without also purchasing a Lego building kit.
I have made an annal of that day. Sweet, fading summer.
I have no idea what kind of bug this is. Anybody? It flies, and I love it’s black-spindled body against the metallic of our deck chair.
Cartoon by Jonah. Gabriel really said that. We were watching a cable guy working from a bucket truck.
He was fiddling with a bunch of wires in an open electrical box.
It was one of those mornings when the boys just got along. G kept checking the barometer of Jonah’s mood by asking, “Do you still like trucks?”
Boys in a box, curbside.
G’s favorite “creepy lady.” Her posture exudes sadness and mourning.
If only her eyes weren’t black pools of nothingness. If only she had a nose.
We did a lot of grave reading.
Maybe the best surname ever. I should write a novel about the shy, yet bold heroine, Anna Ever.
The boys particularly loved the mini-mausoleums.
They tried to find a way into every single one.
I think this is a dog. Even if it’s not, it’s a dog to me. What better companion could you have at your grave? Gives new meaning to “Let sleeping dogs lie.” (Sorry, couldn’t help myself.)
Infant graves are the saddest; they particularly bring the sorrows of parents to mind.
I like how this one is in the shape of a key.
I swear Jonah didn’t pose for this. As for the filter, something essential about Jonah surfaces
when I use Color Pinhole 1.
This one really stumped the boys. Is it a tree? Is it a gravestone? A tree?
G on the go.
St. Francis in the bulrushes.
One strange stack of a stone monument.
Another view. I could have taken a dozen pictures of this one.
Final rest, so to speak.