The woodpeckers cackle and pound on the timbers of the Church.

ON A DECEMBER SUNDAY THE LANE INTO THE CHURCH O’ THE PINES is a trail to another world. Things are quiet here. Sounds that do arrive from the Big World are muffled by the blanket of snow. And other, more odious intrusions from the realm of discord and dissension are muffled as well, by the good tidings of trees and winter whisperings of pine breezes. On arriving at the Cabin you may hear the bright, bold chipping of Sparky the Cardinal, who lives with his mate in a vine above the Cabin door; or the friendly greetings of chickadees. The woodpeckers cackle and pound on the timbers of the Church. Gray and red squirrels bound and leap in the rafters. Occasionally the five resident deer tip-toe through the snow. All the furred and feathered members of our congregation are fluffed and puffed on a cold morning, but seem in fine fettle. (Not sure what a fettle is, but whenever mentioned, it is always ‘fine.’) All here send you greetings and wishes for Good Sabbath on this good morning…

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