I recorded this merry, mystical missive in the early morning on top of West Rattlesnake Mountain in New Hampshire.  It’s a place to which I often return.  I remember visiting it as a boy—I’m pretty sure my father carried me part of the way up.  I also remember carrying my own son up to the top—he’s more likely to be able to carry me now.  It’s a place that always reminds me strongly of the Celtic Christian emphasis on the presence of God in the natural world.

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Don’t worry: I’ve neither seen nor heard of any rattlesnakes on Rattlesnake Mountain.  In any case, on that morning, I think they’d have been rattling in time with God’s great song.