Our house in Caherdaniel was at the top of a hill near two cemeteries. The newer graveyard was, as you might expect, boring. I passed it twice a day as I drove out each morning and in at night, but I never bothered looking around. The old graveyard, however, was great. It was thickly overgrown, foggy at times, and full of ruined old church buildings. I was pretty careful when I walked around in it, but not careful enough: I tumbled completely into a hole covered by brambles and vines one time. I sustained no damage other than a few scratches, but for a while I wondered how I was going to get back up. I was suspended entirely by plants, and there was no obvious way to lift myself into a sitting position, let alone a standing one. But eventually I did, and after that I was even more careful.
Anyway, here’s a Celtic cross at sunset over one of the graves.
