Cemetery visit is a chance to reflect on life

Today I want to talk about cemeteries. But first a word about lemon ice cream.

Last year I wrote a column about how my mom makes homemade lemon ice cream for the Memorial Day holiday.

Since then, a number of you have asked for her recipe, which is why I'm taking this opportunity to share the lemon ice cream love.

You're welcome!

PAT'S LEMON ICE CREAM

4 cups of sugar

3/4 cup fresh lemon juice

1 1/2 teaspoon lemon extract

2 quarts milk

1 pint cream

Add ingredients in the above order, putting the cream in last.

Those are my mom's exact words. I'll leave it to you to figure out the churning and setting up part.

I'll also leave it to you to deal with my mom if you defy her wishes and PUT THE CREAM IN FIRST.

Anyway.

Now I'm heading for the old Salt Lake Cemetery where I walk nearly every morning.

Today it will be full of people decorating graves with potted mums. The older folks — those with the long memories — will stand with arms folded across their chests and chat, while kids chase each other around granite tombstones.

A few families will even bring lawn chairs and a picnic, turning the day into the first reunion of the new summer season.

Tomorrow when I return, the cemetery will be quiet again except for the birds and the sound of a distant lawn mower.

Only the flowers will remain.

Sometimes I'm asked if it bothers me to live so close to a graveyard, and I say, "Seriously? I love it."

For one thing, the cemetery doubles as a nature preserve, only you don't have to buy tickets to get in.

Just the other morning I saw a baby red fox. The kit sat on a grassy knoll and regarded me in silence before slipping out of sight.

A fox!

In the heart of a city!