Now that it's light out later, and a bit warmer, I can go for walks after supper. The setting sun set the stones aglow at the cemetery, like this urn that is normally off-white. This is why photographers and moviemakers call it "the golden hour;" it really is golden.

I had a spontaneous St. Patrick's Day memory today at work: the DJ on the radio was talking with a fake Irish accent, and I was taken back to when I was about twelve, and my father & I made a tape of a fictional St. Patty's Day parade for my mother while she was at work. Man, I wish I still had that tape! It was really funny (at the time, anyway) and it would be a hoot to hear it now. We both spoke with fake Irish accents, and described the parade as we imagined it passing us by. I'll have to ask my mother if she remembers it. Dad could be so silly sometimes! Now you know where I get it. *g*