The Graveyard at the End of the Lane

Wonderings on Land, Death, and Dislocation

“To tell stories is to attend directly to the dead.” 

-Martin Shaw

There’s a Native graveyard at the end of my road. No sign. No plaque. No Google map. Just headstones, plastic pinwheels, and lichen-covered memories beneath quiet pines.

Seriously.

In my last post I wrote about how I recently moved out to the Columbia River Gorge with my partner. When we fi…