Wouldn't Yew Know It

Several years ago we planned a cycling trip to Denmark in this cemetery and crouched under a yew tree when it suddenly poured. We have often reminisced about both the yew tree hunkering and the trip itself complete with sandwich bags full of homemade granola that we'd often grub into and a mysterious B&B owner called Esther.

This morning we enjoyed a wintry spring's breakfast outdoors on a bench, and reminisced some more. There was a dog being mistreated by a woman with one of those ball lobbers that would look more at home on a lacrosse field: 'don't you dare roll, DON'T YOU DARE.' When it came snuffling near us we urged it to roll out of sight and never look back.