The frost on the trees bordering the cemetery Monday morning was spectacular. Blazing white branches sparkling against a brilliantly blue winter sky created a stunning scene worthy of the cemetery’s name, “Pleasant View.”
My sister and I drove past the cemetery on our way to spend some time with Dad at the farm.
We’ve driven by this cemetery thousands of times. With Mom at the wheel of a ’66 Mustang and then a ’73 VW van, we drove to town for church or school activities, or to visit Grandma, or to get a part for Dad.
In high school, one of my summer jobs was mowing the grass at Pleasant View. The evergreens were small and I had to be careful not to hit them with the blades.
Monday morning, shimmering with frost, the Pleasant View evergreens towered over rows of stones and, with two feet of snow on the ground, there was no concern about lawn mowers.
I’ve always kept my eyes on the road driving by the cemetery.
Now I turn my head to look.
I look for the plot near the road marking the place Mom and Dad chose for their headstone. After they told us they’d bought the stone, none of us went to look at it. Mom seemed a little disappointed that we weren’t excited about how pretty it is.
It was at Mom’s burial in November that, for the first time, I saw how pretty it is.
Etched into the granite, a garland of flowers hovers over “Winter” in all caps.
Two squares surround my parents’ names and dates of birth. A pair of entangled rings displays their anniversary date. The names of their four children are listed at the bottom. Monday morning, all of this was under the snow.
But the trees were not.
They stood glittering against a brilliant blue winter sky creating a stunning scene worthy of the cemetery’s name, “Pleasant View.”
Mom would have loved it.