AT THE CHURCH O’ FAWN ISLAND, the sun rises through the morning clouds. The coffee steams. The ravens croak overhead. A jay calls his name. A young eaglet screams and a red squirrel trills. And Paddy looks out at the world. And then finds Kathy’s lap.
OUR CHURCH O’ THE ISLAND post today actually comes from two evenings ago when I ran out from the cabin to catch this sunset. In 45 seconds the glorious light and colors diminished. Sometimes we have only a few moments to notice how beautiful the world is. To notice beauty at all. This was not a ‘forest fire’ sunset, but
AT THE CHURCH O’ THE ISLAND, through a gauzy porch screen, one ponders the strange beauty of a (mostly) dead jackpine. It still looks over the lake as it has for decades, an icon of the North. Like all such trees, it speaks of hardiness and fortitude, of perseverance, of belonging to and growing from the place you are planted.
THERE IS A LITTLE ISLAND in the North Country that is the center of gravity for me, for my family. White throated sparrows and loons fill the air with music in the warm months. Ravens and eagles chart their courses through the skies and fish, turtles, and otters haunt the waters. We cherish every moment spent there. Several days ago
AT THE CHURCH O’ THE ISLAND, outside the slammin’ screen door of the Dear Old Cabin (100 years old next year) things are green and growing. Except for the rocks which are gray and weathering. A morning thunderstorm helps with both processes (albeit microscopically with the rock part). Yesterday saw the arrival of Son #1 and family, today Son #2
AT THE CHURCH O THE ISLAND, a morning thunderstorm sweeps across the lake. Garden-variety, nothing serious, but just enough booming and cracking and rain-falling to make a nice soundtrack for a Sunday morning. After my many, many thunderstorms in a canoe or a tent or just a poncho, it still feels quite luxurious to sit under a roof, with a
EVEN ON A COOL, gray and cloudy Sunday morning, a slow stroll around the Church O’ The Island is rewarding. The view from high atop Moonlight Ledge is outstanding, while down the cliff-face pale pink corydalis flaunts its pink and yellow blossoms. White-throated sparrows and yellow warblers sing their hymns. Near Jackpine Point the blueflag iris shows its colors, and
AT THE CHURCH O’ THE ISLAND, things are well. After days of rain, the sky is clear, the breezes light. The congregation—including magnolia warblers and white throated sparrows, flickers and mergansers, deer and grouse and loons—are enjoying the warmth and sunshine. Pin cherries and blueberries set their blossoms. A robin sings cheerio from the shoreline. Koda the forest kitten strolls
ON THE CHURCH O THE ISLAND, it is a good Sunday morning, drenched in bird songs. It was the loons along the shore who awakened me, but I was late—far too late to see the sun edge over the horizon. The white-throats and song sparrows had long been lofting their morning arias. The crows were caterwauling, the red squirrels trilling
AT THE CHURCH O THE ISLAND, green things grow. A mama merganser clucks from the shoreline. Birds sing from leafy bowers. A light wind ruffles the lake and wavelets chuckle among the rocks. Pine bows nod and aspens shiver. The sun charts its course across the morning sky. And one notices, absentmindedly at first, how many things are good and