Betty and I sat in the cold woods yesterday, out on the point facing westward. A big blow several weeks ago had taken down several of the trees in our forest and three of them had fallen across our sculpture trail. We had cleared the trail and had stopped for lunch, oranges, crackers, and cold water. Betty told me as she had walked through the woods she was silently praising God for our beautiful place and began to hold her gloved hands out in humble worship. “When I did the sun heated up the dark blue of the palms of my gloves and warmed my hands!” she exclaimed. We sat silently in the cold woods, the three of us, facing westward in joy.
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| trees down |
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| our picnic spot |
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