Jinny's Occasional Poems

Friday, February 2, 2024 (Imbolc, Groundhog’s Day); from Jinny in San Diego, CA to Sally in Taneytown, MD

Dear Sal,

The cooler weather months here seem to be when I “feel my age” more intensely. This year’s rains so far have come in spurts. The days when I’m stuck indoors because of the weather feel longer somehow.  Still, here on the Saturday after Thanksgiving, the weather was pleasant enough for an outdoor Thanksgiving feast at son Jason and Kelly’s. They had pushed together a set of tables to accommodate Jason, Kelly, Parker, Ada, and all four grandparents plus J&K’s next door neighbors, whose son Sander is about Parker’s age and one of his best friends. It was a special occasion, with the option of eating outdoors a plus.

The one year there had been an “extended Batterson family” Thanksgiving at our house, I remember having been quite nervous. It was a couple of years after Jim’s father died. Both Jason and Scott were home from college. Our initial “Japanese daughter,” business intern Eiko, was part of the household, too. Jim’s brother Paul and sister-in-law Vivian came down from Connecticut, picking up Jim’s mom in New Jersey on their way. I’d gotten a special “organic” turkey that took much longer than expected to cook. I eventually wound up having Jim carve parts of it and then microwaving the meat so we could eat before the rest of the meal got stone cold.

I don’t know if you’ve had access to coverage of the late November Rosalynn Carter funeral—a partial respite from some of our political slug-fest. All of the living former First Ladies showed up. There seemed to me to be less feigned camaraderie or blatant bullying than usual.  The ladies, at least, seem to have managed a temporary “truce.”

I’ve heard you have a good acupuncturist friend. Mostly to calm myself down, I’ve been going to an acupuncturist in a different part of San Diego on a fairly regular basis. She works at an alternative health clinic along one of the public bus lines across Mission Valley from where we live in Tierrasanta. The sessions seem to help, especially now that being indoors for a treatment doesn’t pose quite so much covid risk. Watching too much media coverage of all the current global armed conflicts can wear me down emotionally. Sometimes, even after a good acupuncture session, I have to take a “media sabbath,” not that it makes the conflicts go away.

The longer evening intervals after sundown this time of year provide good times for reading. I’ve gone through Heather McGhee’s The Sum of Us,  Madeline Ostrander’s At Home on an Unruly Planet, and David Brooks’ How to Know a Person in fairly quick succession. None discount the difficulties our societies and natural world are going through, but all seem at least somewhat hopeful that humanity can craft better survival tools for ourselves and for the planet.

This year was a “no travel” Christmas for Jim and me. Early in December, I wrote out a holiday letter and sent it to most family members and friends the old-fashioned way, via postal mail. I still enjoy buying holiday cards. I find the “peace on earth, goodwill toward all” sentiments in my favorite designs uplifting. Hope they can spread just a little holiday cheer to others. Hope you got yours.

The Saturday before Christmas, Jason, Parker and Ada went with me to a “camel dairy” in a rural part of San Diego County about 15 miles east of here. It sounds as if the dairy owners had previously been employees at the San Diego Zoo’s Safari Park and had branched out to run the dairy. They sell camel rides plus toiletries and small “camel milk” gifts. They also give educational presentations about camels to visitors for a fee. I think the grandkids enjoyed it. They got to feed some goats in a separate pen from the large camel enclosure. Neither opted for a camel ride. Jason graciously agreed to drive for an excursion back and forth on roads I was unfamiliar with.

Because of advances in video conferencing technology, we can arrange calls with the rest of the family that are “almost as good as being there.” We saw a little of the holiday celebrations in Ohio and in Connecticut. Granddaughter Kenley is quite mobile by now and is starting to have more words. She’s a big fan of an Australia-based cartoon show called “Bluey,” sort of the Aesop’s fables for this generation, from the little I’ve seen of it. Paul and Vivian were having a fairly quiet Christmas. Vivian has an artificial tree that looks almost real. She decorates it beautifully every year. We exchanged greetings briefly with brothers Bruce and Jim V. and their wives. All seem to be doing well.

We celebrated this year’s Groundhog Day twice —in the morning with Villagers at the clubhouse we rent in one of the surrounding condo communities, then in late afternoon here in our alleyway for neighbors and family. Jason came with the grandkids. Half a dozen neighbors showed up to munch cookies, drink cider, and share weather stories. We’d earlier gone online and purchased a groundhog inflatable—yard-sized inflatables seem to be the latest decorating fad in this part of the country. If I remember, I’ll put in a snapshot of family posed around the 7-foot groundhog, which a built-in motor keeps upright once you plug him in.

Enough for now. Please take good care. Hugs all round!

Love, Jin

Tuesday, October 31, 2023 (Samhain/Hallowe’en); from Jinny in San Diego, CA to Sally in Taneytown, MD

Dear Sal,

Happy Hallowe’en! This year we did have trick or treaters—a quartet of teenagers dressed as…teenagers. I gave each of them a granola bar and a quarter. We had deliberately avoided getting candy for our place, instead chipping in to contribute to the abundance of candy that the next generation of Battersons require each year for the hundreds of preschool and elementary school costumed kids who show up at their door.

It’s been a busy few months since I last wrote. In late August Jim and I drove north toward another edition of “Consultants’ Camp,” a gathering of small-scale consultants that’s been happening most years during the week around Labor Day since 1988. Especially since the start of the pandemic, the two of us have been divided about whether or not to attend. Neither of us has done any active consulting for over a decade, even if you count some of our China teaching adventures as “consulting.”

Many other camp attendees are also retired or semi-retired. What constitutes consulting has changed substantially as deindustrialization continues, as large firms further consolidate, as the economy changes and government regulations rarely keep pace.  Because of covid, “Camp 2021” had been virtual rather than in person. “Camp 2022,” held in person in a small town along California’s Monterey peninsula, had been overshadowed by concerns about the virus. Last year’s camp leader was a 60-something diabetic for whom a covid infection would have been extra risky. Our leader, Lisa, had stocked up on masks and covid tests in advance of camp. We all did our best to keep everyone safe. Each of us tested ourselves several times during the weeklong event, all tests fortunately coming back negative.  We also spent as much time as practical outdoors. (Complicated by an unseasonably hot early September and an older inn complex with limited air conditioning.)

Jim was more enthused about Camp 2023, also to be held near Monterey,  than I was. I agreed to go, too, mostly to visit with long-distance friends I don’t get to see very often. I lobbied to avoid plane rides and to incorporate sightseeing along our way in both directions. We decided on a car trip incorporating visits to some former Spanish missions. Starting with San Diego in 1769, Franciscan friars sent north from Mexico eventually created 21 missions near the California coast, stretching as far north as Sonoma, north of San Francisco. Between San Diego and Carmel-by-the-Sea, the nearest mission to our camp venue, there are nearly a dozen missions, so we could pick and choose and still see several.

California’s initial colonial identity had been Spanish, rather than English, French, or Russian. However, after a Spaniard claimed much of the Pacific coast for his country in the sixteenth century, Spain pursued more lucrative adventures among the Aztecs, the Incas, and the varied inhabitants of the Caribbean and generally ignored what later became California. It wasn’t until other European colonizers began to show interest in the Pacific coast that Spain sent Franciscan missionaries north from near what is now Mexico City. (The welfare of the indigenous area inhabitants was not a major concern. If considered at all, they were mostly viewed as potential converts to Christianity.)

On our way north, we saw missions at Santa Barbara, San Luis Obispo, and San Miguel in various stages of activity or disrepair. On our southbound journey after camp, we checked out Carmel, Santa Ynez and, nearly back to San Diego, a large, well-appointed mission called “San Luis Rey” on a hill at the edge of the town of Oceanside. We also got to do some beach walking at various places closer to the coastline—Morro Bay and Carpinteria both had appealing, accessible beaches.

During camp, Jim hosted a session about aging, the first time I’d heard him explicitly admit that getting older can bring health challenges. I sat in, mostly listening. What heartened me most was learning from a slightly younger camper that her 90-something father has opted to frame the eye, ear, and mobility aids that help him to stay semi-independent as “tools” rather than as embarrassments. A day or two after Jim did his session, he experienced an extended period of dizziness and being unsteady on his feet. With help from a friend and a walking stick we found in town, he adapted. He later got back to “normal,” which we’re learning does change over time.  

When we’re in San Diego, I’ve gotten increasingly involved in volunteer activities at our local public library branch. As an “author,” I’ve received a few dollars in sales for the essay book. I enjoy writing blog posts on a somewhat irregular schedule. Jim and I are usually able to backstop the younger generations when they travel, typically over school vacations. They do the same for us, collecting mail if needed, tending to pets and plantings.

At the end of September, I attended a potluck at the giving garden, along with grandson Parker. Most of us incorporated some of our garden produce into our supper dishes. Two of the guys had a portable pizza oven where they created crispy, small pizzas quickly and in quantity. Especially popular with the younger attendees.

We’re gradually adapting our house and yard to be both more energy efficient and more “elder friendly.” A younger member of the UU church gave us the “home elder safety assessment” I’d won at our most recent church services auction. She suggested moving our living room sofa against a wall rather than alongside the front entrance. There it would present less of a tripping hazard. She also recommended installing “grab bars” in our tub/shower. Both changes have since been made. We got a gardener that a friend recommended to replace the former brick walkway in our back yard with a granite paver and decomposed granite path that will be friendlier for wheelchairs or walkers should the need arise. We’ve gotten “honeycomb” blinds for all our windows, supposedly more energy efficient than the plastic Venetian “slat” blinds they’ve replaced. The ones in our bedroom and the office/guest bedroom even have “darkroom” mode, which makes sleeping easier amid city street lights.

Not all work, though. In October, we went to hear a mini-concert at an area home overlooking one of our more beautiful canyons. Our Village friend, Marc, and his octogenarian piano partner, Barbara, did a program of both classical and popular music as a four-handed duo. A younger vocalist added some pizzazz on several of the more modern numbers.

Miss you. Please take good care. Hope you have plenty of wood and fuel for the colder months. Lots of virtual hugs!

Love, Jin

Starting in 2005, my sister Sally took over a small farm in northern Maryland, part of an inheritance from our parents. Sally had never farmed full-time before. Her lifelong interest in gardening was scant preparation for this late-middle-age career transition from more sedentary work. Especially the first few years, Sally struggled. She wanted to run the farm as a biodynamic one, paying special attention to the cycles of seasons, sun, and moon. Gradually, she got an acre or two into biodynamic production. She rented the rest of the land to nearby more conventional farmers. She built up a cadre of part-time volunteers. Her work was more than full-time, with scant occasions for the travel she had enjoyed earlier in her varied careers. Her internet access was spotty at best, so we kept in touch through phone calls and letters.

For a biodynamic farmer, “cross-quarter days” are especially important in deciding harvest and planting schedules: Halloween (Samhain), Groundhog Day (Imbolc), May Day (Beltane), and mid-summer, around August 1 (Lammas).

This November, I’m posting six years’ worth of cross-quarter day letters, through multiple changes in government, a global pandemic, and major changes in our respective personal circumstances. Please read along…

Monday, May 1, 2023 (Beltane/May Day); from Jinny in San Diego, CA to Sally in Taneytown, MD

Dear Sal, 

Happy May Day! I’ve now experienced my first cool weather harvest in San Diego. Starting in mid-February, I had decent crops of chard, lettuce, carrots, kale, parsley, and leeks. We’d had adequate rainfall and a good bit of cool weather; there even were frost warnings one or two nights. By late February, I’d harvested enough carrots for sixteen carrot cupcakes for Parker’s birthday. He’ll be driving soon, which makes me feel old. In a somewhat downbeat journal entry on his birthday, I wrote:

“Find myself sometimes ‘channeling’ Granny and Pop-Pop—an aging couple, mostly housebound, living through uncertain times together.” Covid concerns are waning somewhat, but some restrictions are still in place and life is not yet back to “normal” (and maybe never will be).

Our mid-winter travels took us briefly out to sea for a whale watching expedition. Not being avid sports fans, we’d accidentally booked our afternoon cruise on Super Bowl Sunday, so the boat wasn’t crowded. In our previous attempts we’d not seen any whales. This time we got to see perhaps a dozen—mostly brief glimpses of spouting at a distance of half a mile or so. More endearing to me were the pods of dolphins who seemed to enjoy swimming alongside our boat, nearly close enough to touch. I’d taken some motion sickness medicine and never got sick, just a little drowsy. We went far enough outside San Diego’s harbor to become aware of how sheltered San Diego’s bays are. When we got home, the “big game” was still going on. Kansas City eventually prevailed with a field goal in the final minute.

My mood improved with the weather in early March. I discovered an extensive “Japanese Friendship Garden” in one of the canyons of Balboa Park—nearly twelve acres of cherry trees and other ornamental plantings. When I first went, the cherry blossoms were just starting to come out, but many of the azaleas and camellias were in full bloom. Wish you could see them. We’re gradually making improvements in our own small yard. We purchased a young pomegranate tree and a hybrid “Meyer lemon” at a local nursery. Purchase price included delivery and planting by a landscaping team. We’ve also purchased a raised bed planter (on metal supports and about waist high) for an area near the privacy fence we share with our next door neighbor.

I spent part of the cool weather season polishing up a set of blog posts to create an essay collection which I then self-published via Ingram, an alternative to Amazon that seems to specialize in global sales centering on libraries and research institutions. “Somewhat Centrist, Slightly Sexist Seasonal Rants” will never make any bestseller lists, but I was gratified to have seen the process through to publication. I sent out various promotional copies to family and friends, but have yet to make more than a few “for profit” sales.

The latest episode in our saga of aging was an “eye explosion/retinal tear” that Jim experienced while driving home from a nearby lunch with friends. He says it was as if a spider had suddenly built a web in his left eye. We were doubly blessed that he was able to get home safely and that we were then were able to get an emergency appointment with a retinal specialist. I drove him to see Dr. Lee, who stayed after hours to treat him, about 5:30 that same afternoon. Dr. Lee, a spritely older woman of Chinese background, expertly repaired the tear; follow-up visits show no permanent damage.

We’ve also benefited from the wisdom of an older friend who’d had a similar episode about a month before Jim’s. Our friend Marc is part of the lunch group Jim had just finished attending when his eye misfired—post-retirement men who gather about once a month for “ROMEO” meals: Retired Old Men Eating Out. Aging, it seems, is an adventure better done as a community. Hope your White Rose Farm Circle is thriving, as they seem to be a big part of your community through these fraught times.

Enough for now. Please take good care. Lots of virtual hugs!

Love, Jin

Starting in 2005, my sister Sally took over a small farm in northern Maryland, part of an inheritance from our parents. Sally had never farmed full-time before. Her lifelong interest in gardening was scant preparation for this late-middle-age career transition from more sedentary work. Especially the first few years, Sally struggled. She wanted to run the farm as a biodynamic one, paying special attention to the cycles of seasons, sun, and moon. Gradually, she got an acre or two into biodynamic production. She rented the rest of the land to nearby more conventional farmers. She built up a cadre of part-time volunteers. Her work was more than full-time, with scant occasions for the travel she had enjoyed earlier in her varied careers. Her internet access was spotty at best, so we kept in touch through phone calls and letters.

For a biodynamic farmer, “cross-quarter days” are especially important in deciding harvest and planting schedules: Halloween (Samhain), Groundhog Day (Imbolc), May Day (Beltane), and mid-summer, around August 1 (Lammas).

This November, I’m posting six years’ worth of cross-quarter day letters, through multiple changes in government, a global pandemic, and major changes in our respective personal circumstances. Please read along…

Monday, October 31, 2022 (Samhain/Hallowe’en); from Jinny in San Diego, CA to Sally in Taneytown, MD

Dear Sal,

No trick or treaters at all this year, despite a general decline in covid worries. Now have at least a partial explanation, courtesy of one of son Jason’s next-door neighbors who grew up here:

Hallowe’en really is a big deal in the U.S. southwest, especially this close to the border with Mexico. Hallowe’en festivities often get twinned with “Day of the Dead” celebrations that occur during the first few days of November. Families buy Hallowe’en costumes for their young children, alongside the marigolds and chrysanthemums for creating temporary family “altars” for loved ones who have died. In advance of Hallowe’en night, some parents will drive around to “scope out” areas and neighborhoods where the sidewalks are safe and the prospects for bountiful candy are good. Parts of the large housing complex where we live (over 700 single family homes in close proximity) are nearly ideal for trick or treating. There are lots of families with children of their own in the development, hence lots of candy. Also, the streets and alleyways are laid out in such a way that it’s possible to visit lots of houses without crossing any streets.

There are only four entrance streets to our entire complex, with a sort of “ring road” one block in from the entrances and then short, stubby, streets with alleyways between any cross streets, leading to dead ends at a six-acre park at the center of our “Villa.”  People who live “inside” the ring road are referred to as being on the “inner loop,” while those outside the ring road are on the “outer loop.” Jason and Kelly and their neighbors are “inner loopers,” very close to the park, while our house is on the “outer loop.” We live along the block leading in from our area high school. Young trick or treaters can cross our alleys with little risk—there’s very little automobile traffic except at rush hour. However, parents are rightly leery about having their children cross any streets.

Once we figured out the “system,” it made sense. When we asked Jason and Kelly this year how many trick or treaters they typically get, they said “hundreds.” On a recent video call, daughter-in-law Morgan recounted how during their Hallowe’en visit last year, they’d had to send somebody out to buy more candy after the 11 pounds Kelly had initially stocked ran out. Morgan and Scott officially married on October 20, with a small ceremony in the nearby town of Findlay, OH. They sent pictures—a nice set of relatives in autumn-colored outfits, with 5-month old Kenley looking especially fetching. One of Morgan’s grandparents, “Grandma Shirley,” is still alive and attended part of the festivities—she’s the matriarch of family redheads.

In this year’s midterm elections, I’ll again participate as an early voting and election day poll worker. The length of the early voting period where I’ll be stationed is a lot shorter than the two-plus weeks I spent in North Carolina in 2020—basically just an extra-long weekend. California has had mail-in ballots for many election cycles already, so the expectation is that a pretty high proportion of ballots will be cast that way, especially since concerns about covid have not yet entirely disappeared.

I’ve been through a two-day training regimen at an area library, along with workers for several other early voting sites. Our site leader seems to be a retired military officer with a good bit of prior experience running elections. We’ll have face masks and hand sanitizer for those who want them, but masking is not mandatory this cycle. The number of languages used for printed ballots is higher than I’m used to, with several Asian languages as well as English and Spanish. Perhaps because I’m new to the temporary electoral workforce, perhaps because I was just too dumb to request a voting site near where we live, I’ll have a long commute for the several days of early voting—to a county park about 20 miles north of Tierrasanta. Should give me more than my fill of freeway driving.

Soon I’ll need to buckle down and research what candidates and issues I want to support via my own ballot. California allows “ballot initiatives,” some generated by the state legislature, others certified if a certain proportion of registered voters request them. Some of the issues seem important to me; others mainly seem like some disgruntled partisan wanted to stroke his/her ego by getting verbiage onto the ballot.  

A month or so ago, I became an official member of the First Unitarian Universalist Church of San Diego, after about a year of intermittent Sunday attendance and a fairly lengthy orientation process. It’s not a perfect fit—I’d prefer something geographically closer to where we live if I could find it, but it’s a good group of people. Like most congregations these days, it trends somewhat older.

Not long after moving to San Diego, Jim and I joined the Tierrasanta Village Movement of San Diego (TVSD). For adults over 50, its membership is centered on the few square miles of this “Island in the Hills” that Tierrasanta calls itself. As I understand it, TVSD aims to strengthen the social and mutual help ties that reduce loneliness and lengthen the interval when we can live mostly-independently rather than becoming part of a “continuing care” facility. Covid has pretty severely limited the activities TVSD can provide for now—outdoor gatherings, some video calls and phone trees.

Tierrasanta is a fairly self-enclosed community, surrounded by freeways and a regional park. Over 3,000 older adults live among a general population nearly 10 times that large. Within TVSD overall, there are neighborhood subgroups—I’ve attended a couple of events for our neighborhood at our complex’s central park. I have a regular TVSD weekly walking partner who lives a couple of blocks away. On good days, I don’t much notice that I’m getting older. On other days, well…

Hope you’re aging gracefully. Please take good care. Lots of virtual hugs! 

Love, Jin

Starting in 2005, my sister Sally took over a small farm in northern Maryland, part of an inheritance from our parents. Sally had never farmed full-time before. Her lifelong interest in gardening was scant preparation for this late-middle-age career transition from more sedentary work. Especially the first few years, Sally struggled. She wanted to run the farm as a biodynamic one, paying special attention to the cycles of seasons, sun, and moon. Gradually, she got an acre or two into biodynamic production. She rented the rest of the land to nearby more conventional farmers. She built up a cadre of part-time volunteers. Her work was more than full-time, with scant occasions for the travel she had enjoyed earlier in her varied careers. Her internet access was spotty at best, so we kept in touch through phone calls and letters.

For a biodynamic farmer, “cross-quarter days” are especially important in deciding harvest and planting schedules: Halloween (Samhain), Groundhog Day (Imbolc), May Day (Beltane), and mid-summer, around August 1 (Lammas).

This November, I’m posting six years’ worth of cross-quarter day letters, through multiple changes in government, a global pandemic, and major changes in our respective personal circumstances. Please read along…

Monday, August 1, 2022 (Lammas/Midsummer) ; from Jinny in San Diego, CA to Sally in Taneytown, MD

Dear Sal,

Happy Midsummer! Happy Lammas! Since I last wrote, the Batterson clan has added a new member: Kenley Jean Batterson, born in Lima, OH on May 21. Mom, dad, and baby seem to be doing just fine. Although we knew the covid risks of airplane travel, Jim and I couldn’t resist a chance to see the new baby and her parents in person during a brief visit to Ohio in early June. Just before our return to San Diego, I did come down with a mild case of covid, possibly from our inbound plane ride, which was crowded and long. I don’t appear to have spread the infection to anyone else except maybe Jim, thank goodness. We both recovered fairly quickly.

Wonder if we’ll now have immunity for a while. For such a widespread infection, there seems to be an amazing lack of consensus about how to control the spread, how effective vaccines are, and how to treat those who get infected. At least mortality figures seem to be going down. No further trips planned any time soon, but we do video phone calls with the Ohio crew a couple of times a month. Kenley is growing incredibly fast. She has red hair, which pleases her fading-strawberry-blond grandma.

Son Jason and his family spent part of the summer in Scandinavia, alternately exploring urban areas and hiking among waterfalls. Somewhere in their wanderings, they, too, picked up covid, except for Kelly. No one got very sick. All are recovered now. While they were away, I was tasked with caring for both grand-dog Ginger and a bunch of “grand-fish.” Was able to follow a fairly complicated set of instructions to clean the fish tank while they were away. Last I heard, all the fish were alive.

I was distressed at the U.S. Supreme Court ruling effectively overturning the 1972 Roe v. Wade abortion decision. Their ruling was not totally unexpected, given the current make-up of the court. I believe their decision was overly broad, likely to worsen women’s health in general without having much societal benefit. The weekend after Mother’s Day, San Diego was one of the locales with a sizable abortion rights demonstration in anticipation of the court’s ruling. I went. I walked without a sign, but was touched by a fellow marcher who’d crafted a simple handmade placard giving the full name, birth and death dates of a woman who’d died quite young: Mary McCarthy, 1909-1933. When I asked my marching neighbor for a fuller story, she said she was honoring her great-aunt, who’d died from a self-induced abortion attempt back when abortions were illegal, difficult to obtain, and often deadly. Mary had been married, with four living children, limited resources, and an unemployed husband when she discovered she was carrying a fifth child.

Other marchers carried more generic symbols—twisted coat hangers, stylized uteruses with coiled snakes inside and the slogan “don’t tread on me,” unflattering comparisons between the rights of women and the rights of some AR-15 assault rifle purchasers. I know that no decision to end a pregnancy is easy, but wish the choice still rested primarily with the mother-to-be. San Diego hosted a smaller right to life counter-demonstration in the same general area on the same day. Local law enforcement tried to ensure that the two groups were separated in both time and space.

It seems to get harder and harder to find any sort of middle ground, either on the abortion issue or other “hot button” topics. I doubt you and I will ever agree fully about abortion (or any other topic, for that matter).  I wish we could have further discussions in person, but know that’s not practical for now.

In cheerier news, my plot at the giving garden has produced enough tomatoes to can a good bit of sauce. I’ve had good luck with green peppers, less success this year with eggplants, though we had one for supper a week or so ago. I’ve made enough ice cube tray pesto to last through most of the cooler weather, I think. Some weeks I’ve even had enough extra veggies to contribute to the produce going to the drop-in center.

Please take good care!  Lots of virtual hugs!   

Love, Jin

Starting in 2005, my sister Sally took over a small farm in northern Maryland, part of an inheritance from our parents. Sally had never farmed full-time before. Her lifelong interest in gardening was scant preparation for this late-middle-age career transition from more sedentary work. Especially the first few years, Sally struggled. She wanted to run the farm as a biodynamic one, paying special attention to the cycles of seasons, sun, and moon. Gradually, she got an acre or two into biodynamic production. She rented the rest of the land to nearby more conventional farmers. She built up a cadre of part-time volunteers. Her work was more than full-time, with scant occasions for the travel she had enjoyed earlier in her varied careers. Her internet access was spotty at best, so we kept in touch through phone calls and letters.

For a biodynamic farmer, “cross-quarter days” are especially important in deciding harvest and planting schedules: Halloween (Samhain), Groundhog Day (Imbolc), May Day (Beltane), and mid-summer, around August 1 (Lammas).

This November, I’m posting six years’ worth of cross-quarter day letters, through multiple changes in government, a global pandemic, and major changes in our respective personal circumstances. Please read along…

Sunday, May 1, 2022 (Beltane/May Day); from Jinny in San Diego, CA to Sally in Taneytown, MD

Dear Sal,

Happy May Day! Happy gardening! A garden plot at the giving garden did indeed open up, and I’ve been working on it intermittently since late February. For each plot, the renter pays a flat fee of $150 per year. The gardener agrees to keep his/her plot in good shape and to put in at least 6 volunteer hours over the course of the year helping maintain the common areas. It seems a good bargain to me, especially since water is included in the fee. Gardening has always been partly therapy for me. The previous worker of my new-to-me plot did a pretty good job of enriching the soil, but there are still a fair number of rocks. I dig them out, then shift them from this “hillside garden” plot to border areas in our yard at home to help provide erosion control and garden accents.

At first I planted a cover crop mix of mustard and buckwheat that was available from the garden shed for the taking. We had enough rain in March so I didn’t have to water much. Once the cover crops had started to bloom, I spaded them under and then prepared the soil for warmer weather plants.

Each year, it seems, Carolyn starts flats of tomato and pepper seedlings in the garden’s small greenhouse. She sells them for $1 each, with the proceeds benefiting a drop-in center in downtown San Diego for low income folks. I have bought a few tomato seedlings of different varieties, along with a couple of peppers. I’ve also planted string beans from seeds. They’re struggling. Trying to avoid providing “bunny food” is a continuing challenge. Several of the nearby garden plots use upside down metal mesh wastebaskets for plant protection, the kind you can sometimes find at the Dollar Store. I haven’t found any yet, but will keep trying. You would probably laugh at my puny garden efforts, but working the soil does help “ground” me, both literally and figuratively.

The world seems in serious need of grounding at the moment. It seems to me as if the final homeward flights for Beijing Winter Olympic athletes had barely taken to the skies when Russia launched its full-scale invasion of neighboring Ukraine. I’ve attended a couple of rallies at San Diego’s Balboa Park in support of Ukraine. I’ve learned that there is a substantial Ukrainian diaspora in this area, with a local Ukrainian church processing donations of cash, clothing, and emergency supplies. I try to contribute some cash for Ukraine, but to focus most of my efforts locally. The ripple effects of the Ukraine war in the global economy may turn out to be substantial. The war is also likely to further complicate efforts to bring the pandemic under control. Probably a good time to be living in the American countryside and relatively isolated, though I doubt the U.S. will be directly impacted by this flare-up in Europe. Do you still store home canned goods in the bomb shelter Dad included at the Ruggles Road house, I wonder?

I’ve gotten involved in a food distribution project here that a member of the local UU church started shortly after the beginning of the pandemic. Once schools shut down, many of her elementary school students were food insecure without school breakfasts and lunches. Maureen taught in a part of San Diego county near the Mexican border. She arranged for a weekly food giveaway at a satellite UU campus in a small strip shopping center close to her school. Families can come for meat, dry goods, baked goods, and fresh produce each Saturday, no questions asked. Someone has devised a minimal registration and timing schedule to reduce congestion in the small parking lot. I’ve been going early in the morning a couple times a month to help break down the pallets full of apples, potatoes, onions, squash, or whatever other fruits and vegetables show up that week. We work outdoors, and wear masks and gloves, so it’s fairly safe pandemic-wise. The program keeps growing.

The regional food rescue group that supplies the produce and much of the baked goods seems to do a pretty good job of diverting “near expiration” edibles from the landfill to actually feed people in need. Seems a little like the effort you started at the farm to get fresh produce to people who needed it once pandemic shutdowns took hold.

We’ve had our first out-of-town guest in our new place—a solo visit from “Joey,” who helped us keep our computers functioning during the year when we taught in the small Chinese city of Ya’an, Sichuan. It was great to see him, if only for a couple days, and to swap stories. Since coming to the U.S. around 2014, he’s gotten additional computer training, gotten married, and made plans to start a family. He worked for several years in the New York City area, living in Brooklyn with his Chinese-American wife. We’d seen them a couple of times when we lived in Cary. Joey recently got hired on at Google here in California. We hope to be able to visit with them once they get more settled in the Silicon Valley area and this blasted pandemic abates. Their “coast-to-coast” move turned out to be even more complicated and awkward than ours. Joey and Lu Wei had nearly gotten stuck in China in 2020—they’d gone back for a visit and barely got out before lockdowns started there. First they were nearly stuck in Ya’an, then they were really stuck in Brooklyn. Joey has asthma, but seems to be all right. A somewhat challenging time to be alive.

This morning I attended my first “in person” worship service at the local UU church. Rather than an indoor venue, the service was held on an outdoor patio, with distanced chairs. It had an earth-centered theme, with related music and a very graceful dancer who did a sort of single person “May Pole Dance.” Perhaps I’ll start learning more about the traditions surrounding “Beltane.”

Enough of my nattering. Lots of virtual hugs. Please take good care!

Love, Jin