A day of bright sun, no breeze, cool air, and a smattering of nearby hammering begins. I’m not sure who would pick up a hammer at seven in the morning on a June Saturday in the mountains, though I imagine purgatory was first conceived for such an individual.

No birds as of yet, even though it is early still. The chipmunks ar out, of course, one sunning itself upon the woodpile, brightly lit, the sun illuminated every strand of hair on its casually waving tail.

I’m not of the forest today. Going down the mountain, celebrating father’s day a day early. A most worthy celebration in my family.

So, I’ll be visiting a messianic congregation, barbequing, and likely enjoying the peace of a day full of activity.

A bit of a break from my usual solitary ways, and I suspect a bit of a break which will be most good for my soul.

Feasting and celebrating are vital parts of the spiritual life.