HERE AT THE CHURCH O THE PINES, it is a fine Sunday morning. Old Man River flows by within his banks—or maybe a few inches over. The ice floes have migrated south. Other beings have migrated north, and there is a great cacophony from the river, composed of the voices of geese, goldeneyes, hooded mergansers, wood ducks, mallards, eagles, even a noisy Cooper’s hawk. The soundscape will only continue to evolve. For a pastor (or church Caretaker) It is a fine thing to observe the swelling of the attendance rolls.
The great pine deacons stand their ground, adding dignity and solemnity to the day—even with wet feet. The church basement is wet, but will soon dry out. Maybe. Church soloist Sparky The Cardinal is in excellent voice and singing his head off in praise of Creation. The blue jays are singing, too, in their enthusiastic fashion. The sky is blue and all is alive and stirring with the wonder of Spring!
The cabin is still a mess, but will soon be put back together—meanwhile much Spring cleaning and scrubbing and even staining of logs is happening, thanks to the feminine half of the team. And the Writer’s office—at least the part of it with a desk and chair and view out the windows—is reorganized. It is a comfort.
All at the Church O THE PINES wish you Good Sabbath!