We have violets blooming. We also have snow predicted for the weekend. Just for variety, I guess.

Last night, the choirlet did a bit of a sing-through of the Cokesbury hymnal. This is a venerable hymnal containing bizarre songs like “Whispering Hope” and “Pentecostal Power.” Several of the ladies knew a lot of these songs. One of the ladies used to go out and sing them to the cows on the farm when she was a child, to call them in for milking. I think those were lucky cows.

We were talking about heaven. I have no mental image of heaven, but the ladies had seen things on Oprah and read books by people who had died, gone to heaven, and returned.

I never believe stuff like that — I mean, I don’t read it or watch talk shows, so I have no direct experience of it, but when people tell me these things I feel very skeptical.

The ladies said that the music in heaven was very good. Apparently, everyone can sing perfectly in tune in heaven. That makes sense to me. If there is in fact a physical or quasi-physical space called heaven, then the music ought to be amazing.