Yesterday I stopped for photos at the Veteran’s Cemetery that I’ve been passing in my travels here in New Hampshire. The row upon row of headstones are so moving, so many lives cut short, so many sacrifices made. But when I noticed an elderly woman struggling up the curb with her walker, on her way to honor her husband, or father, or son, I felt ashamed to be thinking in terms of the nice pictures I hoped to take, so I cut that visit short…Then I decided to stop at Daniel Webster’s birthplace, having passed the turn-off several times without stopping. He is a favorite son of New Hampshire, for good reason.There was no sign announcing a turn-off for the last place I stopped yesterday. I had glimpsed this little structure soon after I arrived here but had no idea where it was that I’d seen it. I was mad at myself for not stopping that day, so of course I had to stop when I spotted it this time. I feel as if I’m intruding when I stop for pictures sometimes. But when you put a sweet little structure like this one out by the side of the road I have to assume that you intended for it to be noticed and appreciated. And I did both!