Inside the old cemeteries where American dead reside, nature is taking back what was culled from her. A tree eats a decorative iron fence at the Pioneer Cemetery, aka the Methodist Episcopal Cemetery, in Clarksville, Red River County, Texas. This was the town’s first graveyard from 1834 to 1897 before a new one was deeded. Both blacks and whites are buried here. The main cemetery in Mansfield, De Soto Parish, Louisiana is still in use, but two centuries of random neglect take

I am usually on-the-go on weekends, but this Saturday found me in a somber kind of mood. While I’ve been enjoying the mild winter and am really excited about the signs of spring that have blossomed around me, I kind of felt out of sorts. To cheer up, I decided to go for a walk. Always fun to find history. Walking is a great spirit-lifter, of course. But I wasn’t looking forward to taking a walk around my own neighborhood. Not that it’s a bore, but frankly, I walk the mile-rad

I turned yet another year older this month (just a decade past 29), and, like I do every birthday, I did some soul searching. I’m re-visiting Bromide (in my head & for real) because I recently came in contact with a Chickasaw Elder who is providing me with all sorts of information. If I didn’t follow my passions, I would have never known him or learned so much. My soul apparently has ADHD, because my mind tends to wander when I genuflect. It meanders towards places I’ve been,