AT THE CHURCH O’ THE PINES, a little balsam fir, bathed in morning sunlight, every needle glistening, greets the day. It is a good time of year. All the forest is coming back to life. Hepatica and wild ginger and bloodroot are beginning to rise out of the warming soil. Ruby-crowned kinglets are back and singing their favorite song. As are the red-wings.
Yesterday’s first paddling outing along the Church moat (Father of Waters) provided three viewings of our river otters—smart, curious, fast and elusive on land or water, curious, playful and fun-loving. And curious. A beaver also swam nearby, and a pied-billed and an eared grebe. And wood ducks and blue-winged teal and mallards.
A fine outing it was. But sometimes all one needs for a soothing of the soul is a glimpse of a little tree, starting its life, well-rooted, reaching for the sunlight and holding it within. One could do worse than to live your life like a tree. Even a small one, just getting started.
Good Sabbath from the Church O’ The Pines…