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 is out and rising higher in a bright blue sky. The pileated woodpeckers cackle from the deep woods, the chickadees talk confidingly of chickadee things, the nuthatches go up and down their tree trunks, muttering pleasantries to themselves, and the blue jays broadcast the news that Fellowsip Hall has been replenished with seeds, cracked corn, and peanuts, and is open for business. All in all a fine morning at Church. All here wish you Good Sabbath wherever you may gather, or wander in solitude among the beauties of the Earth.