The morning temperature was slightly above freezing, and the cracking of ice could be heard along the stream’s edge. The trail to my church was just ahead.
The initial goal was to climb a peak that would summit above 15,000 feet. The morning rain quickly washed away that plan. I would not let that deter my spirit however, and let the beauty of the timberline lead me to an unknown sermon.
The rains dissipated quickly, and I reached my pew upon the lake shore. I stood in humble silence as the clouds passed by on the autumn breeze.
I find no church more comforting than the one found in the bounty of Nature.

Wench, bring my ale, what say you?

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