A warm front, shirtsleeves, early blossoming flowers in the desert. We love this time of year but it is way too short. 70 is ideal, 90+ is hot, 100+ can happen anytime in late March, till early April.
But today is a delight, and I have the solemn duty to lay a WWII veteran sailor to rest that the National Memorial Cemetery in north Phoenix. My parents are both buried in the Naval Air Station in Pensacola FL amid Live Oaks and acres of grass. Here we have acres of carefully raked rock and funeral bronze plates in uniform geometric lines that stretch for acres, quite stunning in its effect.
Words of comfort repeated from the military code, a rifle volley, taps, the folding of the flag perfectly before presentation to the family. My little role in this places me in a place of patriotism, privilege and pain, the pain of a final goodbye.
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