The Sixteen Year Old badgered me into getting into the car and driving around to do some photography yesterday, on account of how nice the day was.  I'm glad he did, because we ended up at my favorite local pioneer cemetery, where the old section, from the 1800's, always somehow provides good stuff for the lens.  

It was a clear, cool and somewhat blustery day, and this little cemetery sits out in the flats, and the trees there are the only thing sticking up from the plain until you reach the line of the Cosumnes River about two or three miles to the north.   It's quite a dramatic resting spot for all the original pioneers, and the names on the headstones correspond to the names of all the checkerboard roads that criss cross the land hereabouts.  Some of the head stones are quite ornate, and represent fine examples of the stone carver's art.  Others are as simple as a plain rectangle sitting on the ground, with only a name and date.

One of these evenings, on a moonless night, we need to roll on over and see what can be done with long exposures and stars.  We'd have to go together, though, because it is a graveyard after all.  Being there in the dark might just peg the spookiness meter.