Cool Car, Cemetery, and So On

So, yesterday's picture?

Leslie had it right: it's a 1935 Dodge. Well, actually, not just Dodge.

Dodge Brothers. Who knew? More to the point, I got to ride in it. Cool! My grandmother's neighbors are the proud owners, and when my mother and I, out for a walk on Sunday, stopped to admire it, they insisted on taking us for a short drive. Twist my arm! How cool is this?

Floating power? Okay. How about this hood vent?

The driver opens it to allow air to flow through. It's the air conditioner!

Then at the front, above the Dodge Brothers logo, don't miss this:

Amazing.

He would like you to know that his car would not have been $645 back in the day. The small print in the lower right corner gives the prices for other models, and his is one of those, so it was over $700. Whew!

Before we got sidetracked, we were walking up to the cemetery, to say hi to family there and just to get outside on a beautiful day. We walked past what some would call weeds, by the side of the road, and these told a time-lapse story.

So pretty. The last bit is uphill, but the view makes the climb worthwhile.

I usually visit Grandma in the spring and fall, and at Christmas. It was interesting to see full summer!

That there are sad tales would hardly surprise one, under the circumstances. For instance, far too many stones are for babies. But this one made me even more sad.

At the bottom, there's no name, just "infant son". He lived for more than six weeks and didn't even get named? That's so sad.
 
There are also interesting monuments.

And interesting names. Have you ever met a Deiadamia?

What about Considder?

Philander?

Not to mention Lucretia, though thanks to the Borgias at least I've heard of that one.

After wandering a bit, and saying hello to the relatives (well, the ones we could find; neither of us was certain where the Revolutionary War-era stone was, and we didn't run across it), we headed back down the hill.

I admired the cupola on this building as we passed it, and my mother told me that when she was a child, two spinster sisters lived there, making their living by knitting and quilting things that were sold in New York City. And, one of them had a name my mother loved. My name! Pretty cool.

I have more flowers to show you, and there's my Olympic knitting project as well, but the poor, neglected kitty is calling me. As is that Olympic knitting project, for that matter!