I found myself filling time pleasantly in a gentle mist between errands and home patients on Monday. Walking back up to pick the car after repairs at Harvey’s, the old Via Electric building seem stark and imposing, now padlocked, but an active electrical parts and repair shop when we moved here.
In earlier incarnations, it was obviously a church. You might be able to tell if you click the image for an enlarged version, the door under the porch on the right has in its three panes: RETIRED. BUSINESS. CLOSED.
That only added to the derelict melancholy of the composition. And of the day. In that frame of mind, I wandered around the Jacksonville Burying Grounds (cemetery named for the original town now called Floyd) and took pictures of tombstone lichens–a wonderful metaphor of life after death, and if I had a tombstone for my mayonaisse jar of ashes, I’d insist it be of the kind of rough stone that gives lichens a toe-hold and hope some odd photographer would come along a hundred years from now to admire them in their gray-green and orange crustiness.