They still do this, out in the rural Tennessee countryside: gather at the family cemetery, first Sunday in June, to place flowers on the graves and remember the ancestors. A pretty spot to spend eternity, "most of it tucked under" as Annie Dillard said.
There's a nice essay by Margaret Renkl this morning in the Times on re-reading Dillard's classic Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, as good a paean to the tonic of wildness and rebuke to"civilization" as Walden. "The world is wilder than that in all directions, more dangerous and bitter, more extravagant and bright..."
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