On Friday, we made a trip to Eureka. I was initially going to just take the children, but then I called Grandma Sue and asked if she wanted to go, so she left work and it became The Eureka Expedition. Mikayla and Guy came, we picked up Ava, Blake, Makenna, and Luke. We took lunch, flowers, and tools to clean up the graves.
On the way to Eureka, we stopped in Goshen. My Uncle Doug (Grandma Hare's brother) and his wife, Aunt Cecile are buried there and since they would not have received flowers, we took some for them. The children ran around checking out headstones, and Brandt was delighted to find one with a forklift on it. A forklift!
From Goshen we made our way to Eureka. Eureka was once a booming mining town and is now a sparsely populated town on the edge of nothingness. Every year we go I wonder why any lives there at all, or what those who live there do. My great-grandparents are buried there, so we make an annual pilgrimage. I feel it is important for the children to have a connection with those who came before us, even if they don't know them. I don't know them, but I love honoring them.
Each year we go to Eureka, we stop at the city park for a picnic. This year we encountered gale force winds. It was howling and dirt and sand were swirling around us as we tried to put out the blanket. The children were undeterred as they played on the equipment, but picnicking on the grass was out of the question. So we improvised. We emptied the back of the suburban, put down the seats, and spread out the picnic blanket in the back. We all fit and ate in the comfort of the windless car.
As I said, the children were undeterred by the wind and played and played on the equipment in the park. Guy played and played with them.
Guy pushing Ava on the swings
Can you tell how windy it is?
Brandt filled both pockets of his shorts with gravel.
He had serious low riders.
Makenna, trying to get out of the wind. She was only marginally successful.
After lunch we went to the cemetery. The Eureka cemetery is old and reminds me of Boot Hill. It is relatively desolate; wild rose, sage brush, cheat grass, and small cedar trees are about all that grows. It is evocative of another time when early Utah settlers lived there. I have always been drawn to cemeteries. I love to wander aimlessly, contemplating those who lived and died and now are buried there. Who did they love? Were they happy? Were they mourned and missed? There are many children buried in Eureka and I often reflective with sadness at the loss and heartache their parents must have felt.
Someone (probably more than one someone) is buried under all that wild rose.
We always clean up my great-grandparent's grave. Here are shots of our good workers.
Luke raking.
Blake and Guy tree trimming.
Blythe sweeping the dirt.
Brandt, Blythe, and Luke digging and picking up debris.
Mikayla, Grandma Sue, and Blake standing above.
Luke, Ava, Brandt, Katherine, Makenna, and Blythe.
Grandpa George and Grandma Georgina Richards' headstone.
Ava, Guy, Mikayla, Katherine, Blythe, Blake
Luke, Makenna, Brandt
This is Guy and Mikayla in their "tent."
I don't suppose I need to elaborate on what is happening in the tent.
On the way home, we were lucky enough to come upon a cattle drive.
We pulled over and watched and listened to the cows crossing the road.
I know I managed to capture a not so nice moment of a cow peeing.
And she's right in the middle of the shot.
Better than the other shot I got of one cow on top of another.
In spite of the wind, our trip to Eureka was a delight. I'm glad we went and had so much company.
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