Pink yarrow

In the large cemetery where my father is buried, the church has left grass and wildflowers to grow freely in the areas where there is no longer more than perhaps a single grave. How clever and beautiful. 
I went to take a closer look at the meadow closest to my father's grave, I could see about eight different kinds of wildflowers. I am sure there were more, but I did not want to trample the vegetation too much, so you will have to settle for a photo of the pink yarrow.