May 17, 2026: Divided

June 7, 2026: They Remembered

Last year, we rebuilt the pond's edge. The bluegill used to nest there. I worried we had closed that bottom to them for good. This week I found out we had not. A reflection on the ground that holds us, even when we can't see it.

May 31, 2026: The Secret

Behind the office, the serviceberry trees are ripening. What happens next is one of the most extraordinary things we witness all year. I shouldn't tell you. But I must.

May 24, 2026: A Rescue

A double-crested cormorant crash-landed in the Pachysandra outside St. John's Church this week. A rector, a Boy Scout, barbecue gloves, and lab goggles were not enough. This is a Pentecost story about the one who comes alongside — and what it looks like when help actually arrives.

A Postcard from the Pond: Peonies

A mid-week postcard from the rectory: on pinching back peony buds, on a New Hampshire congregation that knows how to live in summer, and on the difference between fewer flowers and more flower.

May 17, 2026: Divided

The iris didn't know it crossed state lines. It only knew there was ground here, and light, and that was sufficient. A reflection for the Sunday after Ascension — on division, multiplication, and how good news travels.17