ON THIS APRIL DAY, spring has arrived at the old caretakers’ cabin at the Church O’ The Pines. The canoe was taken out onto Old Man River, there to discover wood ducks and Canada geese and mallards and map turtles. Last night the first full choir of wood frogs and chorus frogs throbbed under the stars, and today the snoring
GOOD MORNING from Orchid Corner at the Church O’ The Pines…Where outside along the river, Sparky the Cardinal is singing his heart out; Canada geese are gabbling, wood ducks squealing, sand hill cranes trilling as they fly over; and the full, glowing disc of the sun rising over sparkling water. After a fine, soaking rain for the forest, it is
GOOD FRIDAY OR HOLY FRIDAY is remembered and honored as a reminder of many things. Of the universality of suffering, and the ubiquity of death. Of the power yet stupidity of evil. Of the feeing of hopes and expectations dashed. Of the pain of mourning. But it is also the day for Christians that symbolizes the Divine taking human form,
HERE AT THE CHURCH O THE PINES on Palm Sunday, we have no tropical fronds to lay before an honored Teacher. But snow is beginning to fall and it appears the pine boughs will soon be bending low. Nor have we hosannas to shout—although the blue jays are hollering enthusiastically. But we recall the story of a humble donkey bearing
ALL THE MEMBERS of the Church O’ The Pines were excited this week, as temperatures soared and spring breezes blew. The eagles chirped loudly from their nest tree, and chickadees sang their two-note, ‘Spring’s here’ mating song. Down at the river bank, male hooded mergansers practiced their sweet little growling sounds to attract the attention of impressionable females. Sparky the
HERE AT THE CHURCH O THE PINES by the great river, the tall, deacon pines have seen many things. The Spanish-American War, two World Wars, epidemics and pandemics, recessions and depressions, the invention of the radio and television, the telephone, the motion picture, the arrival of the automobile and internal combustion engine, men going to the moon, the great, world-gathering
SOMETIMES, here at the Church O’ The Pines, when a gibbous moon dangles among the limbs of the tall timber, I can almost imagine I am camped on some old, favorite campsite, deep in the North Country wilderness. Of course, this is a favorite campsite, too; and in the times of Zebulon Pike and Schoolcraft, this, too, was wilderness. And
THERE WAS NO POST from the Church O’ The Pines this morning, as I was visiting another sister church—the Unitarian Universalist Fellowship of St. Cloud. There we had a lovely reading/signing/mini-concert and visited with old and new friends. One notices that a U. U. congregation is very nearly as nice as our Church O’ The Pines group. Well, maybe just
THIS MORNING AT THE CHURCH O THE PINES, the Father of Waters is booming and cracking as new river-ice forms. In this warm open winter the making of ice has seemed less common than the melting of it. With the Church thermostat turned down for the moment the sounds of winter have returned. Even with the colder temps the sun
THIS WAS AN INTERESTING Sunday at the Church O’ The Pines, as after morning services three congregation members we don’t always see showed up together. First there was a beautiful 6-point buck who scattered the squirrels and jays in Fellowship Hall. Just as he moseyed along, an 8-point buck arrived, and moments later a 10-pointer. These two proceeded, nose to