On a foggy, rainy, December I stood on the crest of the hill above Stanford Church in Stanfordville, New York.
The church was closed but there were no closed gates on the long graded driveway leading into the cemetery. Birch lined the perimeter of the graveyard. Leaves are always a consideration this time of year but the grounds crews had already made short work of the autumn leaf fall. The cemetery grounds were immaculate and I enjoyed walking among the gravestones.
