We asked a neighbor which direction we should head for an evening walk. He pointed us toward the dirt road that dead-ended into Jones Cemetery. It was flanked on both sides by a meadow -- on one side we watched the deer scatter, on the other side the three of us couldn't get our combined arms around a cypress tree. The weather was tremendous: one red cloud in the shape of a bell sat on the east horizon. We also met a very friendly colt who liked to be scratched behind the ears.