Beanie was looking for something to occupy himself until quitting time. He had oiled his shovels and other tools. He'd made sure everything was stored nicely on its hook or shelf. He had restrung his weed-eater and made sure the gas had been run out of the mowers so condensation wouldn't foul up the motors over the winter.
It had been a long day, and he was ready to go home. He could taste the canned chili he had waiting for him in his cabinet over the sink. He had finished clearing all of the broken branches and limbs off of the graves.
He decided to walk the grounds one more time to make sure he had removed all the debris from the storm. He grabbed his thick coat and pulled an old stocking hat down over his ears. He wondered if winter was going to hang around this year. He shivered and zipped his coat up.
That old cedar sometimes threw off limbs when the winds whipped up strongly. Nope. Nothing on the ground there.
He moved on toward the Heath plot. Its wrought iron fencing kept out most of the blowing debris during a storm, but occasionally, things got stuck in the fence. He checked out all four sides. He saw nothing.
On to the tree-lined section near the Field family and the Dula clan, Beanie saw something. It lay on the ground near the Deel stone. It looked like some kind of nest had blown out of the trees and had landed near the trunk of an old oak standing guard over the families for decades.
He picked it up, cradling it carefully. It was brittle. Old. A few downy feathers still clung to the inside of the nest. It looked as fragile as a snowflake in his hand, and Beanie was afraid it would crumble between his fingers.
He was reminded of last summer when he'd found another nest.