I grew up playing in the graveyards of rural Virginia churches, and old overgrown family plots that my sis and I used to stumble upon in the woods. I don't fear the dead, as a general rule, though I have a healthy respect for ghosts and spirits. During the brief time that P and I lived in Falls Church, our apartment overlooked a cemetary. I remember telling a friend in CA about our location, and he asked me "So, are you taking long contemplative walks through the graveyard at dusk, now?" and I had to laugh, because it wasn't far from the truth.
Ella and I took a walk to our local cemetary, er, "memorial park" yesterday, to view a big pagoda on the grounds. The access road to the pagoda has been closed for the whole time I've been here, but I was going to go take some pix of it anyway. We were pleased to find the road open yesterday, and we could go down to it. It featured this graceful moat around a smaller temple, with koi, and even smaller pagoda sculptures.
Of course, then, the whole expedition became an exercise in keeping my water-lovin' dog out of the moat.
Today, the husband flies to Samoa for a week of work, while I stay behind and hold down the fort. As I wrote earlier, I welcome the routine and mundane, right now, so this suits me. The order of the day, alas, is housecleaning, as I do not like to be home alone in a dirty house. Knitting? Comfort knitting, of the latest Clapotis (this is the ONLY pattern I've ever knit more than once - I'm on number four) in its called-for yarn of Lorna's Laces Lion and Lamb. Now I understand the allure of this yarn, as it is buttery soft and ever-so-slightly fuzzy and shiny and is keeping me going through what is a somewhat boring pattern, except that I'm in love all over again with miles and miles of stockinette stitch.