Cross on a Hill in the Mist

There was a glorious mist out when I woke up in the morning. I thought about a little cemetery not far from where I work, and about getting some pictures in the mist. But the mist isn't always predictable. Sometimes there's mist here, but none there. I couldn't be sure that because there was mist where I live, there would also be mist in town.

As I was driving to work, I passed a favorite cemetery closer to home, Gray's Cemetery, where I haven't stopped in a while. It has a pretty little white gazebo in the far corner near the cornfield, and if you show up at the right time, you can capture the setting sun in the gazebo. (See here and here.)

But it was morning, and whatever sun there was, was hidden by the mist. And so I parked my car near the gazebo and got out with my camera, and was glad for my Crocs as I walked through the soaking wet, freshly mown grass.

A monarch butterfly flittered by me, and I watched it sail past, thinking how pretty it all was, and how quiet and peaceful and special: just the mist, and the quiet graveyard, and the butterfly, and me. It seemed very atmospheric and strange, and I took pictures, of course, including this one of a cross on a hill in the mist.

The soundtrack song . . . well, what would you expect from a Methodist girl but this one? Here's Kaoma Chende, with some beautiful harmonies on The Old Rugged Cross. No, he's not a quartet, just one guy, but he does a pretty amazing job!