St. Paul's UCC
Worshiping there today with son David, this time I tried to get a picture of their solar collectors from behind them, showing the steeple of the church building just over the hill. There was enough angle to allow that, now that the trees are shed of leaves. See just over the right tip of the collector.
An illegible tombstone, stands sentry in the 1880 churchyard. Doubtlessly, there are members who could identify who's remains are under that hallowed turf.
Auxiliary bathroom, original, stands at the ready if needed. It is in the back corner of the cemetery. Note the 'Chic Sale' half-moon carved into the door. (Enlarge for that.)
David inspects the collectors, thinking he will get some for the roof of his house. Enough electricity is generated from this panel to power the electrical needs of the church, with more to sell back to WE Energies.
David raises his arms in thanks to the Sun God/ Great Spirit.
An invitation came from the Helts this morning on our new printer
to attend as their guests the upcoming English Christmas concert of
the large A Capella choir John will sing in again this year.
Seeing John in his well-fitted and recycled tuxedo in the midst of the other similary- clad or gowned singers is worth the price of admission.
Very worth it, as it is again a gratuity.
This poem by Ralph Murre today
courtesy of Norb Blei of Ellison Bay WI
see his blog:
Merit badges for tying knots
—the bowline, the sheepshank, the clove hitch.
Merit badges for whittling the likenesses
of dead presidents and woodland animals, and
of course, for assistance given to the feeble
in their never-ending quest to cross the road.
Maybe they should keep handing them out.
The badge for showing up every day
right down to the day they tell you
not to show up tomorrow,
A merit badge for the day
your infant son needs major surgery.
Another for that day he’s grown
and buys his first motorcycle.
Badges for each of your daughter’s tattoos
and piercings. Diamond insets
if you can’t really mention what’s been pierced.
A merit badge, or, at least, a colorful neckerchief
as your party loses another one.
(But it could be taken back if you move to Canada.)
Bronze medals for burying parents.
Silver for friends.
You’d rather die than win the gold.
A merit badge and letter of commendation
the day you actually give up your abuse
of anything, or anyone.
And a little badge of semi-precious material
for every day that you get out of bed
and wear a brave costume.
One for that confident smile on your face
as your knees tremble beneath the table.
[from CRUDE RED BOAT, Cross+Roads Press, 2007]