Upcycling Experiment

They call it “upcycling” now, but I always think of it as the remnant of my time as a Catholic Worker when we always made practical use of whatever was on hand for what was needed. So this week, I upcycled an old screen tent to make a covering for this raised bed. I almost didn’t plant anything this summer, I’ve been so tired. But I happened to stop by the Portland Food Coop and they had organic kale seedlings for sale, and I got drawn in. I added compost and seaweed and turned over the soil in the bed.

This bed has often in past years been visited by critters such as groundhogs who love to chomp on greens, so I knew I had to protect it. (It has chicken wire underneath so that protects it as well.) The groundhog has always been easily put off by some sort of covering over the top. Many years ago I had purchased metal framing that I had repurposed for this bed. I had some netting that I covered it in years past (see a photo here), but I couldn’t find it. I did find the old screen tent in the garage–no longer usable because it had no frame anymore. So then I wondered–maybe this would be better than the netting, which had never kept out cabbage moths that liked to lay their eggs on the kale. Maybe the screen would keep out those pests as well?

So I took a scissors to the old tent, and cobbled it back together in a new shape, using a little superglue and paperclips. I tried to minimize any fabric that would block the sun. On the south end, is the zipper opening, and on the north end I folded over the larger remnants of screening.

To anchor the bottom, I placed some logs that we’d cut from fallen branches of our pitch pine. Once everything was in place, I planted my kale seedlings and watered everything well.

The experiment asks whether they’ll get enough sun through the screen, which does shade them a little, and whether they’ll be protected from cabbage moths? I hope it turns out well!

In the meantime, here is a picture of our perennial sea kale, from which we ate several small leaves and buds before it quickly turned to flowering. I love its honey smell.

The Delicate Adventure

Arrowhead flowers and leaves and seeds, a pond plant

I am happy to be starting a new experimental adventure. After four years away following my retirement, I am venturing back into involvement with my former congregation, Allen Avenue Unitarian Universalist Church. In our faith community, a retiring minister traditionally stays away for a few years, to make room for a new minister to bond with the congregation, and to make real the fact that I am no longer their minister. If or when we return, we create a covenant with the current minister to clarify our relationship and offer our mutual support. I have done that with Rev. Tara Humphries who is now serving the congregation.

But it is still a delicate balance to negotiate. When I go back, I am not their minister, but I am also not just any other member of the church. I am still their Minister Emerita, an honorary designation expressing our mutual affection and connection. But with or without that designation, I still carry those thirteen years of affection and connection, and it gives me an influence different from other members. So for me, the experiment is measuring whether and how I might be a member of this community in that in-between zone. I am drawn back by a desire for the kind of community that church offers, I am drawn to that little village of care and support. Is it possible? Will it work for me, and for them?

Some parts of this feel very clear-cut. Dealing with chronic illness has made it impossible for me to carry out many ministry functions, like weddings, memorials, and leading worship, so I won’t even be tempted to be doing any of those. Another aspect clarified in our covenant recognizes that “since my position still carries some weight, I will decline to participate in the governance of the congregation, or take sides on any issue.” And both Tara and I will “decline to participate in, and will remove ourselves from, any conversations with church constituents which might try to evaluate each other’s ministries or contributions to church life.” All of that feels very down-to-earth and solid.

But more experimental are the personal interactions and connections. The first event I attended was an in-person, outdoor celebration of our 200th anniversary on September 10th. I am still being super cautious about COVID, so I wore a mask even though we were outside, though most others did not. This was the largest event to which I have gone at all since COVID. I would have loved to hug everyone, but I did air-hugs instead. It was wonderful to see people I knew, and meet a few I did not know. Heart-warming. It was also rather exhausting, and I had to rest afterward. Is that my chronic illness, or introversion, or somehow feeling once again all those threads of connection?

Worship services are now hybrid on Sundays–some people attend in person and others on Zoom, so I have attended a couple via Zoom, but I haven’t yet stayed for “zoom coffee-time.”

I went to the monthly “Elder Salon” and that felt really good. The structure made it easy for me to participate as others did, with a few minutes of check-in for each person, and a discussion following that. I like the reciprocity I felt in that group. The topics of concern to elders match many of the topics of concern in my own life right now. So it feels like I can join in as any other member might join in, and benefit from the collective wisdom in the group. I guess I am learning to be an elder. I like it.

All in all, I am taking it slow, and observing what comes up for me.