Sunday harolding

There's a word for the habit of hanging around cemeteries, apparently - harolding, after the film "Harold and Maude," in which the young hero likes to explore cemeteries and go to the funerals of strangers. I just like walking around the Necropolis, our beautiful local place of rest, where you find plenty of famous Canadians and very old trees and, today, fall colours and falling leaves.
Click to enlarge.

We miss you, Jack.

On the way back from my walk, I ran into a passel of neighbours, four in an intense huddle on the sidewalk. "What could you be talking about?" I cried. And sure enough, they were. "Why are there no decent people in public life any more?" cried one.
"It's classic Greek tragedy," said another, "or Shakespearean, the epic rise and fall."
"Are they implying there was a camera in the bum of his teddy bear?" said the third. "That he'd turn the bear around and then there was footage of what was going on - is that possible? I will never look at teddy bears the same way again."

And then I went home. In the sunshine, under the red and gold falling leaves, I went home.