This is a picture I took at the cemetery of the church I grew up in. Look…she only has one wing. I’ve been told that it was shot off, but you know how old stories are. But that’s what makes them interesting sometimes. The mystery, the wonder, the question of whether it could really be true? One wing missing…but beautiful nonetheless.
This tree grows not far from where I live out near the land my family owns and farms. There is also a cemetery across the street from this tree. My great-grandma’s family is buried there. I think its pretty cool standing and looking at the tree knowing that my great-great-grandaddy probably stood in the same place looking at that same tree.
I live in tobacco country. My great-grandaddy worked the tobacco market. Yea, I know it will kill you. But so will drinking too much and eating processed cheese.
Tobacco barns are a dying art. Sometimes it makes me sad to see them falling down, rusted, leaning to one side because I know that means that time is passing…life is moving on into the next season and to move forward it means leaving something behind.
But even with the brown faded colors of times past, there is new life underneath…mossy green spring that comes and brings with it a new facet of God’s plan for us all.
Wow. That was kinda corny.