THIS MORNING, after returning from guiding Road Scholars, it feels good to sit on the deck in my grandad’s old Adirondack chair from 60 years ago. To be under the big pines and beside my little bonsai friends. And to listen to the nearly full chorus of the Church O The Pines choir, flitting from limb to limb in the old green choir loft. Today we have the northern waterthrush and ruby-crowned kinglet, the Myrtle warbler (yellow-rump) and the Swainson’s thrush, the just arrived Baltimore Oriole, the occasional brown-headed cowbird, migrating white-throated sparrows singing ‘Oh sweet Canada, Canada, Canada!’ And of course hardy winter stalwarts chickadees and nuthatches, red-bellied woodpeckers and blue jays. The resident bald eagles chirp from high in their white pine nest-tree, and Sparky the Cardinal holds forth from every tall tree around the cabin. And in the near distance the chorus frogs still sing from their vernal pond. One of the best reasons to go to church—at least the kind of church I prefer—is for the majesty and beauty of the old hymns. On this Sunday morning they ring out beautifully. Wherever you hear the music of the spheres, we wish you Good Sabbath!