Strawberry Festival?

Two weeks ago, on my drive home from work, I couldn't help but notice a very large banner stretching across the busiest street in my town. It advertised a strawberry festival at a church about 2 miles north of my apartment. This sort of thing being right up my alley, I eagerly awaited the date and thought of the strawberry shortcakes and crepes, crafts stands, food vendors, etc. that would certainly be there. I mean, it had to be a huge event to warrant such a big banner on prime realty, right? Finally the date arrived; I donned cute but comfy walking shoes and loaded up my camera with fresh batteries and an empty memory card. I walked up there to find a beautiful old little church, built in stone and red wood and.... a garage sale table, a barbeque with hotdogs, and people selling Driscoll's strawberries. That's it: a total of three tables and about 25 people.

Wandering around took me all of 10 minutes. I then peered through the covered walkway of the church and discovered a picturesque little cemetery, with rolling hills donned with eclectic and randomly scattered tombstones. It's fair if you find this creepy: cemeteries used to have the same effect on me. However, over the past few years, I've come to love them. There's this sense of quietness yet a feeling that you're not alone. Reading names and dates of people and their relatives, it's a dream world for an overactive imagination (like mine). Two things struck me about this cemetery. The first was the random layout of the plots. They were not in neat rows, but rather scattered about. I even found some hidden behind hedges. The second was that next to the cemetery was a playground. Yep, right there. The symbolism of the cirlce of life could not be more present....

On the walk back, I met the most endearing doggie....