The recent Memorial Day weekend came a bit early for me this year as I volunteered to help mow and maintain our church's cemetery. I find it to be a peaceful and reflective place, and I get to visit with many old friends through fine memories.

However, I'm not sure that the rest of the volunteer crew always understands my way of thinking. It all started with a patch of field that contains a mixture of mature trees, shrubs and tall grasses.

To a groundskeeper, that makes for difficult mowing. To a naturalist, it makes for a wonderful opportunity to observe fauna and flora in a natural setting.

In that gem of a glade, I have seen some wondrous sights that could never be placed on a wreath or planting vase. I'm sure that, much to the dismay of many of my neighbors, they can't be thrilled to learn that deer and wild turkey love to sun themselves in the early morning light and walk about the cemetery. Why wouldn't they enjoy the well-tended grassy areas and the new plant life that especially thrives on the edges?

Last week, I watched the sunrise and it was spectacular in color and wildlife action. In one area, I saw a raccoon and an opossum heading for a denning area, as they seldom work past the night shift.

A doe deer accompanied by two of last year's fawns tiptoed around the woods' edge, looking as if she was promising the world another set of twins at any moment.

Not to be outdone by the deer, I observed a group of about eight turkeys, with nearly half being long-bearded gobblers.

Saturday at noon was the last day of spring gobbler season and I had to laugh when they made an appearance and gobbled away at 12:05 p.m.

Now I'll return to the story of my mowing woes at the cemetery. This time it wasn't the animal life causing problems, it was the flora.

I'm a sucker for spring wildflowers and they were just magnificent in bloom, so I couldn't bear to run a 48-inch mower over a patch of purple and yellow violets, daisies and forget-me-nots.

I decided to do what every red-blooded outdoor loving man might do: I cut around them and left swaths, circles and patches of wildflowers in areas that might normally be mown flat.

I knew that it might appear disorderly, but in the scheme of life you can find order in disorder. The rest of my mowing team respected my efforts, and when the blooms fade, the mowing will continue as planned.

The wife understands and supports my thinking and appreciates the efforts of my diligence as a guardian of flora and fauna. Many of my neighbors and friends probably see the world in a different way.

One good thing about being a volunteer is that it's hard to get fired for being an independent thinker. We usually don't have people lining up to do free work of any kind.

The very nature of people helps to save this wild spot as a refuge of sorts — hard work for free is not an incentive to clear brush and woods until they are needed. We don't need it now, but the wildlife needs the green space. My experience with people tells me they will have it for a while.

As the weekend approaches, I'm patiently waiting for the tree swallows and bluebirds to fledge as they are also residents of the cemetery grounds. Many a soul has been lifted at the sights of these endearing and people-friendly birds singing and flying around.

If I had my way, every final resting place would have such a tribute because if it brings such joy for people while in this world I can only imagine the magnificence in the next.

Jay E. Hewitt is an outdoors columnist for the Butler Eagle.