The Return of Bagpipe Man

It's a beautiful 70+ degree day today so I left early for work to stop at a cemetery. I decided to head towards Millis today. There is an old, old cemetery there that I have only been to once and thought it was time to stop by there again.

The wind is just strong enough to blow the leaves from the trees and stir the ones on the ground slightly. My hair is blowing around gently, but not whipping me in the eyes. The air is clean and crisp and it finally smells like fall. Wandering from stone to stone I realize that today is the perfect day for walking in an old New England cemetery.

Today I am shooting polaroids and digital photos. I lay down beneath a nearly bare maple tree... yellow leaves all around me. I aim my digital camera up into the tree and photograph it's stark naked beauty. I lay there for a moment with my eyes closed listening to the wind swoosh through the bare branches thinking peaceful thoughts, wondering what me hair looks like mixed with all the yellow leaves.

I hear a noise that sounds like a car door closing, but I didn't hear anyone drive up. I lay still to hear what comes next, expecting to hear footsteps crunching on the leaves. I don't hear crunching though... I hear bagpipes.

I have run into this man before. I have often heard him practicing around lunchtime in different cemeteries in the area. I lay there and listen for a while and wonder who this guy is. I look up around the tree and see his shiny red car and I know I have seen him before. I am guessing he practices on his lunch hour and what better place than a cemetery? I have seen him often enough that I wonder if he recognizes me.

One of these days I will get up the nerve to talk to him and find out what his story is.