Today's bike ride took me to one of our cemeteries here in
our small New England town. I thought that with July 4th
just past, it would be timely to stop and take note of some
of our town's early heroes.
It's a small cemetery, one of three in town, and although it's just off Main Street, it borders our last working farm.
I'm looking forward to August and the corn from those fields,
usually the variegated white and gold, called butter and sugar.
It's also the oldest cemetery, but there's still room and
new residents rest next to neighbors from three different centuries.
But back to our returning soldiers. We have representatives from all the major conflicts but today I was drawn to the oldest corner, with weathered stones and ornate script, some from the Revolutionary War, others with Grand Army of the Republic emblems from the Civil War. (Or, as my Southern relatives might call it, the War of Northern Aggression.)
This is a big year for our little town as we celebrate our incorporation in 1763.
How appropriate that last week the bands, pipers, and floats with waving dignitaries marched right past the people who made that parade possible.