No Crows For Me

There was an item in the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette about an unusual number of crows inhabiting Allegheny Cemetery over the winter. Of course Miss Kitty and I had to go and check out this claim. We did run across a large flock of them that flew over head, but I didn't get any shots of them, and birds are notoriously difficult subjects to work with.
Still, we wandered around the expansive grounds of the graveyard, cold day though it was. Somewhere during this it occurred to me: We don't take death as seriously now as we once did. By 'we' I mean Americans, and by 'seriously' I mean eternal rest. Looking at the ornate monuments at first I thought, Wow, they had more money than sense. But then I thought, Ok, they had money and they wanted to make a statement with some of it. I would never do this because I have nothing to say - and if you read this blog you know how painfully true that is - and yet I love the silent stoicism of these sculpted monuments. Especially when they're blanketed in snow. A static image unmoved, literally frozen, backdropped by a sky nearly as dark gray as the granite pedestals.
Oh, you know, it all lends itself to flights of fancy, meandering thought, while wandering around the bone yard weighing what came before, is no more, and won't be back again.