DEER

Last night a brief snow squall was followed by a howling wind which tore the dead pine needles out of the trees and left them like yard darts poking up out of the soft snow. The ground bristled with them this morning. The wind also scattered the camp's recycling containers, as well as their contents, hither and yon. So the first order of business this morning was to go around and set things back to rights.

 As I was walking across the grounds I saw loads of deer tracks criss-crossing the snow.

 Then I saw the deer themselves. There were seven of them in all traveling in company.

God of wonders. These are my Father's cattle. They are quite beyond numbering.