So we’re blowing through the woods on the green Polaris at the speed of sound, checking out a beautiful big ranch for a trusted client. “Hold up!” I tell my buddy. I see something off in the woods. We back up. Sure enough, it’s stacked rock graves. Several. Green moss growing on squarish fieldstones drug up from the creek at the bottom of this hill. In the big middle of nowhere. Don’t ask. It always takes my breath away…some family or families made a life back here somehow, or maybe not, late 1800s, early 1900s. Out of six graves (or maybe there were more, unmarked, beneath us), there is only one headstone, out of poured concrete, unreadable. How did these folks make a living out here? And who were they? What is the story that we can no longer hear in 2016? ‘Takes your breath away.