It is this tiny little thing. If you are not watching the banks of the road and scanning things constantly you’d miss it. Tucked in overgrown fields right by a sign for Mt Thom off to the side of the road. It’s there, very unassuming and sightly forgotten. Or so it seems, with tall grasses unkept and tombstones leaning over, as if they also may expire.
This types of little gems in history make me rethink creamation. I like the idea of someone randomly stopping by on a road trip to visit my slightly obscure grave.. to leave them wondering who I was and the history behind it all.
Here’s an articleI found with the nanes and ages described.