Wednesday, February 5, 2020

Presbyterians for Earth Care 2020 Lenten Devotion

This year it was my privilege to coordinate and recruit a wonderful group of talented writers to assemble the Presbyterians for Earth Care Lenten devotion for 2020. The theme is based on Genesis 1:29-31, "God Provides Enough For All." 

The devotions run from Ash Wednesday to Easter Sunday. Many thanks to David Shinn, Jeffrey Geary, Carissa Herold, Christian McIvor, Shelley Wiley, Kymberley Clemons-Jones, Jacqueline Lapsley, Anne Richter, Bridgett Green, and Tyler Mayfield for thinking together deeply about Scripture and Earth Care. 


The devotion is available on the Presbyterians for Earth Care website here: https://presbyearthcare.org/…/2020-Lenten-Study-012920-web.…
and here: https://presbyearthcare.org/…/2020-Lenten-Study-012920-P.pdf


Anyone who would like to subscribe can do so here: https://presbyearthcare.us5.list-manage.com/subscribe…

Thursday, November 7, 2019

Cultivating Outdoor Life


Much as we love the house with its energy superpowers, it’s still just base camp for what we’re really doing: enjoying, learning from, and prospering the little corner of earth we live in. Every day brings new insight—about wildlife, about tools, about how things grow. And just for the record, for people who keep asking about volume 2 of my Isaiah commentary: yes, I’m doing that too. Isaiah in the morning, farming in the afternoon. A good balance.

Recently some neighbors, older lifelong residents, were telling about the family that owned these acres nearly a hundred years ago—or maybe more. Two brothers and two sisters all named Schwein, none ever married. I had found them listed on the 1940 census, along with their father, who emigrated from Switzerland. Our neighbor remembers planting corn for them on our house site decades ago. That may have been the only conventional thing the Schweins did. They owned exotic animals—peacocks roamed the farm, and their house was filled with cockatiels and other colorful birds. The last remaining brother sold the place in the 1970s to our predecessor, who dug the pond and kept the fields neatly mowed.

Show-off!
For years we’ve cultivated trees, letting some fields grow back into the forests that used to cover Indiana. When we first planted a patch of oaks and poplars, they seemed artificial, straight rows of tiny whips. But nature has a way of taking charge. Now other species, sycamores, pines, cedars, have volunteered themselves to fill in. Deer, hawks, rabbits find cover there. Every time we drive in or out, a half dozen trotting turkeys lead the way.

As newcomers, we feel wonder at the bullfrogs and turtles, the single chipmunk, the bossy red-winged blackbird and curious hummingbirds, indigo buntings, great blue herons, kingfishers; the tadpoles growing in muddy puddles around our construction site, which the builder’s son and I rescued from a concrete tomb, and fed in pails until they sprouted legs and jumped away (they eat boiled lettuce, by the way); the dazzling monarchs and swallowtails, dragonflies, spiders, lizards, hundreds of ladybugs; elusive snakes and crawdads. One day this week I glanced outside and saw a single duck swimming in the pond: a hooded merganser, something we’d never seen here and nearly missed. It all lends urgency to pay attention.

Carrying on the tradition of trying the weird, I’ve planted not only lettuce, spinach, Swiss chard, asparagus, garlic, and shallots in my Hugelkultur mounds, and several varieties of berries and other perennial fruit in beds around the house. I’ve also started some mushrooms. On a recent visit, my brother and sister-in-law helped me harvest some oak logs and drill shiitake plugs into them, and these are stacked by the barn waiting for the mycelium to inoculate the logs and begin fruiting.

Until recently, morel mushrooms could not be cultivated, only found wild. We once paid $25 for a small bag at a morel festival, and found them pure deliciousness. Now some farmers are growing them. There being no consensus yet on how it’s done, we don’t know what we're doing. Yesterday, after tilling a
10’x10’ square under some trees, we spread peat moss, soil with compost, gypsum, and sand, and then I scooped up and added all the wood ashes I could find to simulate a burn site, and raked in spores of black, white, and yellow morels. We’ll see if we grow anything besides a bad case of poison ivy.

When I used to lead trips to the Middle East, I felt awe at standing in places deemed holy for centuries and even millennia by residents and pilgrims from all over the world. But all that weight of glory is burdensome for clashing peoples, especially for those who lose it in the fray. At journey’s end I was always relieved to return to fly-over country—to a secret place that only we love. Now I’m content to stay.

Monday, October 21, 2019

Moved! Settling in! It’s working!


 Our new home in Henryville, Indiana was completed at the end of July, and we moved in right away. So far, we’ve experienced drought and extreme heat; torrential rain; multiple visitors including our four grandchildren; sunny fall days; nights of stargazing; planting asparagus crowns, garlic, and shallots in our newly made Hugelkultur mounds and finding volunteer acorn squash growing out of them; learning the many uses of a good tractor and several battery-powered garden tools; converting loads of building material, especially pallets and window crates, into barn and shed shelving; viewing a bobcat, coyote, two foxes, and numerous deer and turkeys on our game cam; watching hummingbirds, chickadees, woodpeckers, nuthatches, tufted titmice flock to our bird feeders; learning new species of wildflowers like nodding bur-marigolds and ageratum; transplanting multitudes of plants from our city garden; finding a new organic supplier of berry plants near Bloomington and starting our strawberries, raspberries, blackberries, blueberries, cranberries, hardy kiwis, and figs; drilling holes in oak logs and hammering shiitake plugs into them; literally watching the grass grow that lay as dormant seed for six weeks until the rains came; harvesting abundant lettuce and basil; and discovering and harvesting persimmons that were growing next to the pond.

It’s hard not to get carried away with projects. What saves us now are the shift in seasons and the shorter days of fall. Now that the rains have begun, we can ease up on watering and trust that our plants are all taking root. Soon it will be time to mow fields and plan for the spring. This week I’ll begin using a fan and vent to cool down the root cellar, which this year only contains a couple baskets of farmer’s market potatoes and a few fall vegetables.

Our solar panels are working very well. Here are some drone pictures of them that our installer recently took. If you look REALLY close, we are sitting on the porch watching the drone with my brother and sister-in-law. I’ve become a true geek about our energy efficiency. My favorite app is our Tesla battery, which shows in real time how much the panels are producing, how much our house is using, how much is going back to the grid, and how much is stored in the battery. So far, we have sent more than twice as much back to the grid as we’ve taken. Since we pay four times as much for grid power than we receive in credit, plus another $37/month for the privilege of being connected, having a battery that stores our power for nights and cloudy days is a tremendous advantage. I can take the EV Bolt into Louisville to run errands while the house battery charges up, come home and charge up the car, and then refill the battery before sundown.
 
Speaking of the Bolt, we recently drove it to Winston-Salem, North Carolina, where I taught a class on scripture and creation care at Wake Forest Seminary. This would not have been possible a year ago. But VW’s settlement over their emissions cheating mandated the creation of Electrify America: the installation of hundreds of charging stations at Walmarts all over the country. In addition, many college campuses, including the two we visited, have free charging stations, and Chevy dealers likewise offer free superfast charging.

It does change the way you travel: we hopped from one station to the next, plugged in, set up beach chairs in the shade, and settled in for a half-hour read, rest, and often, conversation with a local who was curious about buying a Bolt and installing solar panels. Charging took more time, but it cost us less than driving the Prius would have, and even when the power source is coal, the fuel’s carbon footprint is lower than that of gasoline, and there is no exhaust pollution. Plus, it’s a sweet ride.


With the turning of the seasons, we’ve also turned on the geothermal in-floor radiant heat. It’s not what people expect—you can’t touch the floor and feel toasty, because it’s only 70 degrees. But along with the superb insulation and triple-pane windows, it noiselessly keeps us cozy, and hardly registers at all in our electric use.

We love our life here at Lost Beagle Lake. It’s an oasis of serenity and sustainability in the midst of national insanity, and in one of the most environmentally regressive states in the country. What our life here will grow into remains to be seen. We hope that it will become a welcoming retreat for many, and an example of what can be done with some imagination and initiative (and a good builder!). 



Thursday, March 21, 2019

Resources for Home and Congregational Energy Conservation

This coming week I am traveling to Washington D.C. to preach and lead workshops in three churches and at the National Capital Presbytery meeting on Tuesday. 

One of the workshops is a practical guide to energy conservation in homes and congregational buildings. I want to make workshop materials available for  attendees, but rather than xerox 16 pages per person I thought it would be more useful to include a link here so that anyone who would like can download the pages they would like to save, reproduce, share, etc. So here is the link to very useful energy-conservation checklists and guides developed by Hoosier Interfaith Power & Light when I worked there. 

And for good measure, here are two of my favorite images from the March 15 worldwide youth climate strike...