I'm guessing from the dearth of comments that people think that taking photos of cemetery stained glass is sort of, well, weird.
I am always struck by the beauty I find hidden away there. Those two mausoleum windows? The mausoleums are way at the bottom of the hill in a fairly new and seldom visited part of the cemetery, well off the beaten path from the usual circle where you encounter runners and other visitors. I almost never see anyone down there. And yet there they are, two little nondescript buildings with windows in the back, covered by shrubbey. You have to walk right up to the doors and peer past the darkened tombs to see the artistry tucked inside the far walls.
I've written about the stone above before but, in honor of Lent, I'll do it again. For a long time I thought the "Pax" meant "Peace" and that the marker had been placed on a little hillside as a personal gift to me for those days when the sun shines through it at a perfect angle. Then one day I saw some family members there and went over to talk with them. "Pax," it turns out, refers to Mrs. Pax, who was a stained glass artist and aficionado of bonsai trees. She made this piece herself during her final months, and her family incorporated it into her gravestone. Her husband and daughter were visibly pleased to learn that someone appreciates it so much that she makes it a point to take frequent walks along the road below the hillside.
Such care that people put into the artistry that memorializes their loved ones, so seldom appreciated by anyone else.
(My personal plan for this cemetery involves an angel, HUGE glass wings, a Celtic cross, and an Irish blessing. My ashes will be out in the ocean, in a lake, and on a mountain, but I want to leave a gift for the cemetery walkers.)