A fine, humid June-Sunday morning

HERE AT THE Church O’ the Pines it is a fine, humid June-Sunday morning. Father’s Day. Not yet too warm. And Simon, our elder cat, is posing on the arm of my grandad’s Adirondack chair. It is a chair that must now be about 60 years old, or more, and in need of another new coat of paint. Simon and I often argue gently over ownership of the chair, in which I win in terms of logic and he wins in terms of sheer force of will and persistence. So he wins. But we both love the chair.
It is a good spot to listen to Sunday hymns, and the whispering voices of the old deacon pines. The river is up a bit, from the many June rains, and flows languidly toward the Gulf. The eagles in their tree chirp and screech and feed Junior—who Kathy has named Eddie. Eddie is now out of the nest and ‘branching.’ Many young ones are now livening up the Church premises, heedless of Sunday morning manners, but providing a happy dose of New Life. The last of the peonie bushes perfume the air, heavy blossoms lying a bit low after the week’s storms. I don’t know if Simon appreciates the fragrance but I do, it reminding me of careless childhood summer days. From the old chair under the big pines, we wish you Good Sabbath… And of course, Happy Father’s Day!

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