THIS WAS AN INTERESTING Sunday at the Church O’ The Pines, as after morning services three congregation members we don’t always see showed up together. First there was a beautiful 6-point buck who scattered the squirrels and jays in Fellowship Hall. Just as he moseyed along, an 8-point buck arrived, and moments later a 10-pointer. These two proceeded, nose to
AT THE CHURCH O’ THE PINES it is below-zero cold, as in 10 degrees less than no degrees at all! So Koda the Forest Kitten came out to help the parson-caretaker feed the birds. Who were all gathered in Fellowship Hall, including great numbers of pine siskins and goldfinches. We checked the holy water in the heated bird bath and
AT THE CHURCH O’ THE PINES, a light snow fell in the night, gentle as a benediction. Barely enough to frost the old deacon pines, but the aisles and pews of the forest sanctuary are white, and one can follow the tracks of the congregation members. Of course, many are right here on a cold Sunday morning, hobnobbing in Fellowship
EVERY CHRISTMAS SEASON for the past several years I have posted this short essay. It has received quite a response—and sometimes some very interesting replies. The essay, by the way, appears in longer form in my new book, A Wild Path. But here it is as I first wrote it, and have shared it on FB in the past: APPROXIMATELY
AT THE CHURCH O THE PINES, it is a gray, drippy, rainy, foggy, gloomy but otherwise excellent day. Still, the sort of day that indoors is rather appealing. And in the Caretakers’ Cabin indoors is not a bad place to be. Especially this time of year with all of Kathy’s Christmas decorating. One of my favorite things about living in
AND THE WEATHER-MAKER at the Church O’ The Pines decreed that on this day we should have snow. Not a lot, just a dusting, but enough that it looks like December and not November. And with the addition yesterday of the cabin Christmas tree, with grandchildren on hand to help, the season is in full swing. The winds howled in
AT THE CHURCH O THE PINES, it is a day for truths. As all days are. Truth. Truth. Truth. Truth. It is repeated over and over, from every tree, every animal and bird, every cloud passing overhead, every whispering breeze. The message never varies, and never is there so much as an interruption for a lie. And one is suddenly,
AT THE CHURCH O THE PINES, it is a fine morning. Old Man River ripples and sparkles. The blue jays—not the most melodious members of the choir—nevertheless are singing their parts with gusto. The deer have been by for their morning snack in Fellowship Hall. And the chickadees, as always, chat and gossip sweetly. The Keeper of the thermostat has
MAN’S INHUMANITY to man is a story as old as humanity itself. One of the places we go to find hope, respite and relief is Church. Yet we humans ostracize each other, stab and shoot each other, cut off one another’s heads and bomb one another, because of which church we attend. Here by the Mississippi River on the edge
HERE AT The Church O The Pines, we make no differentiation between nature and the realm of the sacred. We believe that heaven ‘is as much under our feet as over our heads.’ We agree with the Zen poet who said, “Green trees, fragrant grasses… a place not sacred? Where?” We know that human beings are natural creatures, as much