In southern New Hampshire, in a town called Rindge, is something called the Catherdral of the Pines - an outdoor church. Or rather, a church with no church building, just a grove of tall, ancient pines, with rough hewn benches and a pulpit standing in front of one of the most beautiful views I have ever seen.

Among churches, it is the only believable one I know of.

When I was sixteen, a girl named Heather took me there.