AN AUTUMN EVENING walk round the Church O’ The Pines woods. A centering walk. A hopeful walk. A walk of deep breaths and the fragrance of fallen leaves, the last golden carpet from the last maple. It held on so long and steadfastly. A blue canoe in a red sunset, the desire to take it out for one more spin.
TWO CELEBRATIONS: Of colors. Of friends. Yesterday Kathy and I decided to find some close-to-home autumn colors. So off to the St. John’s woods we traipsed. Through the old stone arch and down the trail. And were richly rewarded. Every few steps produced an ‘Ooh’ or an ‘Ah’ or a ‘Look at that!’ A celebration of the sights and sounds
HOME FROM RAINY LAKE, it is good to be back to the little cabin in the woods we call the Church o’ the Pines. Good to see and hear the humble congregation, hooved, feathered, finned, furred, rooted, and blooming. All seem to acknowledge the changing of the season. The first colors touch the maples and ashes. The squirrels seem even
IN SEPTEMBER, when the speedsters and noise-makers have mostly gone, the lake and the island belong once more to the silence. To the timeless and the sense of wonder. In that silence, from the old deck on the rocks, one can hear the chuckling of wavelets on the shore, the last wails of the remaining loons, and almost, perhaps, the