Resting places

9th April 2025

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While the after-effects of fentanyl erased the memory of it, I have evidence that I took a lot of photographs on the way home from Albany. I’d taken many going, which is just as well considering the current return of grey gloom.

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It’s good to have an inventory of cheerful images to offer.

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Only a few miles down the road, there had been no snow.

We got another light dusting in Cambridge last night.

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You sense the trees twitching in anticipation of a warm day!

It’s a favourite time of year for me.

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Birch trees were catching the light.

They always catch my sight.

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Too many trees in this area have been devastated by invasive vines. Roadsides are a terrible tangle.

Which is possibly the reason for the apparent savagery we have witnessed recently while out driving, with everything being pulled out.

But the row of trees that were felled in Cambridge were unaffected by power lines or invasive vines and I see no excuse for their removal:(

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Passing through Schaghticoke, we got behind a slow-moving truck. Oh no!

“How are we doing on time?”

As I pointed out, this is the sort of reason we give ourselves a cushion. Besides, when we got to the top of the hill, it sped up.

Forsythia is in bloom.

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Don’t ask me how to pronounce that name. There appears to be a variety of opinions.

It’s the name of an old Native American tribe.

You can’t go far here without seeing a cemetery.

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Of all the places I’ve lived, I don’t remember ever seeing as many burial grounds.

Is it that you are more aware of them as you get closer to occupying one?

Actually, I won’t. That is not my plan and I don’t think age has anything to do with it.

Noticing cemeteries, that is.

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If it’s of use, my body will be donated to medical science. I had the notion that it might be of interest to examine a historic spinal fusion. More likely, it will be the ultimate rejection!

Whatever the case, there is to be a minimum of fuss and speedy disposal. I want my ashes combined with those of my numerous cats then scattered.

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It’s unlikely to be practical, but ideally I would choose for us to be scattered in the ravine beneath Angel’s Rest at Best Friends in Kanab, Utah.

Ultimately, it matters not. Floating off down the Hudson will do fine.

Below I am attaching a video that describes Angel’s Rest. No need to watch it all and if you are like me, it may make you cry, so be warned!

Best Friends, as I’ve written before, is a very special place that affected me deeply. It may be the only place where I sensed total well-being.

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Yeti has a memorial wind chime here.

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When I was young I wondered how people coped with aging and approaching the end but I’ve discovered that it gets far less scary, the older you get.

There’s no way to avoid it, so why worry? Would anyone really want to live forever?

Being a human is exhausting.

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Here we were descending toward the Hudson with Albany off in the distance, where we would arrive some 15 minutes ahead of schedule.

As per usual!

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Last picture before the, – blackout.

Coming home I reportedly chatted animatedly and took 65 photos. Almost all of which I cannot recall.

Maybe tomorrow we’ll return together?

6 thoughts on “Resting places

  1. Thank you, Carolyn, for the beautiful photos of trees against the blue sky. I watched the moving video, thank you! This time of the year, spring, is indeed magical.

    Joanna

  2. I loved the videos of Angel’s Rest. I didn’t know such a place existed, so thank you for including this in your blog today.

  3. I can see why you like Angel’s Rest. You should leave instructions in your will, and sufficient money for the transport of your ashes there. There are not that many cemeteries and graveyards here now, as most people are cremated. But there is a Woodland Burial place near Norwich that I like the look of. My ashes are intended to go there, if Julie is still around to make that happen. I am no longer scared of death, as I am much more afraid of any surgery and treatments to stop it happening that will cause me to linger in pain and with no dignity.
    Best wishes, Pete.

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