AT THE CHURCH O THE PINES it is the beautiful time of year when still and reflective waters call. Mornings and evenings sing their siren songs, and on a morning like this, wrapped in white blankets of fog, the singing is especially strong. Yesterday evening, with a new paddle, I was able to answer the call, and was rewarded with one of our resident bald eagles in a fly-over. Then, minutes later, Junior came by, swooping low and then soaring high above, demonstrating his new-found skills. I was able to capture one quick picture. A fitting image for the occasion.

This morning the fog burns off the Church moat and the canoe calls again. Blue jays and nuthatches, chickadees and crows, all offer their own versions of Sunday morning hymns. Work will beckon again soon enough, but sometimes ‘not doing’ is the most important thing to do. As Ratty said in ‘Wind In The Wiilows,’ there is really nothing—absolutely nothing—half so worth doing as simply messing around in boats.

Indeed Rat. Indeed. Good Sabbath to all…