I've been thinking of this song because we spent the weekend out in the country at my parents'. There happens to be a tiny Orthodox church a couple miles away from the farm where I grew up, where my mother grew up. It's not the one we usually go to but we love the people there, and since our priest was gone this weekend we drove out there.
The priest invited us to come pick strawberries at his house, and I took him up on it. I sat on my butt and and filled a bag with tiny sweet strawberries. I was accompanied by several kittens and serenaded by the squawks of a peacock. Between his little farm and the one where my parents live is what you'd call a dark holler. When I was growing up we'd ride our bikes down there and play Pooh Sticks in the creek. Later I'd ride my horse slowly down the road, suspended in the moist cool of the dark air down there. Right now it's completely green and takes my breath away.
It's just about my favorite place. The little church has started an Orthodox cemetery there. I can't think of a better place to wait for the trump to sound. Be it known that you should lay me there.