AS WE CELEBRATE THE UPCOMING PUBLICATION OF A CHURCH O’ THE PINES BOOK, AND AS I DO THE PLEASANT WORK OF UNEARTHING OLD CHURCH BULLETINS, I THOUGHT IT MIGHT BE FUN TO SHARE A FEW. Here is a post from just this time of year, 5 years ago… (Remember, to order just click the link below.)

This morning at The Church In The Pines the Mississippi River flows by. Yes, it flows. And with that small change in circumstance, the membership of our little woodland church swells to bursting. To be sure, not all the new arrivals find their way into the little pine chapel, but they mill about on the church grounds and nearby. They float upon the river or wing their way up and down it. They gather here and there in the woods and on the riverbanks, visiting and hobnobbing, discussing the vicissitudes of a long, hard winter and their long journey to this point, and the prospects of the continued journeys to come – some to more northern lakes and woods and rivers, some to the arctic and the tundra. The Goldeneyes are here, floating downriver on the swift current, then flying back upriver just a few feet above the water to take the trip again. They dive underwater here and come up over there, and sometimes stop to point their bills up to the sky and give voice to a one-note hymn, sounding much like the nighthawks of summer. Bright Buffleheads travel up and down the river with them, as do the Hooded and Common Mergansers and Scaup, and now emerging from beneath the water a sleek and gorgeous Common Loon, a harbinger of all the warm months to come. Along the shorelines Wood Ducks gather shyly under overhanging willows, squealing in flight when disturbed in the slightest. Canada Geese begin to lay claim to their favorite riverbank haunts. The Bald Eagles sit and chirp in a tall pine they claimed last fall, and we wait to see if it may become home. Kingfishers rattle from streamside branches. And overhead is heard the near-constant tremolos of Sandhill Cranes, the honking of Canada Geese, geese, the trombone bugling of Trumpeter Swans… It is an exciting time at The Church, the most exciting of the year, perhaps, but we are grateful not to have more excitement. The possibility of an ice-jam and consequent flooding is safely behind us, the river rolling by carrying a few remnant ice blocks from “up north”, but mostly carrying ducks and geese and all our other beloved travelers. It flows gently along toward its rendezvous with other rivers, and with the sea. And away with it flows winter. Good sabbath to you…

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