HERE AT THE CHURCH O THE PINES it is a boomy, windy, gray, rainy Sunday. But as I have often told kids and grandkids, every day in a beautiful place is a beautiful day. Mostly. On this day, fox kits run through the yard (disregarding church etiquette). The deacons sway in the breeze. Orioles sing boldly if tuneslessly. Robins repeat their ‘ unique New York, unique New York’ refrain endlessly. With a pause in the squalls, hummingbirds visit their feeding stations busily, sometimes buzzing close past the Parson/Caretaker’s ear on their rounds. From out in the woods the very finest singers, the wood thrushes, trill and warble. We love their hymns. For many years we had no thrushes here, and being a great fan of their music, I often bemoaned this fact. Then, several springs ago, we had one glorious singer—who found love among the pines. Now we have a forest-full of wood thrushes every spring—more each year. And the days in the beautiful place are even more beautiful than before. There’s nothing like a good church choir. Wherever your church may be, we wish you good sabbath!