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, October 31, 2021 (Samhain/Hallowe’en); from Jinny in San Diego, CA to Sally in Taneytown, MD
Dear Sal,
Happy Hallowe’en! Our first Hallowe’en in San Diego was really short on trick or treaters. I’d bought a couple of bags of candy, but only had four groups of kids come by. Not sure if it was pandemic-related, or just that there are fewer trick or treaters in San Diego. I’d chosen mixes with some candies that grandkids Parker and Ada like (Hershey’s miniatures), a few that I like (mint patties). The rest will just get put into the garbage rather than tempt either me or Jim in our diabetes-adapted household.
We got an unexpected “treat” during a short late-October visit from son Scott and Morgan—we’re likely to become grandparents again next spring. Morgan is due about Mother’s Day. She and Scott arrived by budget airline on Thursday for the long weekend. Despite the stress of early pregnancy and the lingering uneasiness of being a nurse in a regional hospital emergency room during covid, Morgan seemed to be holding up well. She was somewhat queasy at times. They’re visiting mostly with local son Jason and Kelly, so Kelly and Morgan should have chances to swap motherhood stories. I’m not sure if Morgan’s fourth pregnancy will be a charm—she says her previous three pregnancies were not much fun. Scott seems almost giddy at being a prospective dad.
I find Morgan generally charming—a tall girl with gorgeous hair and a good bit of energy. She’s much younger than Scott, but seems to have matured beyond her years through her previous marriage and divorce. I’m somewhat hopeful that
A) the baby will be born healthy, and
B) that the two parents will choose to formalize their relationship at some point. Scott seems poised to go “from zero to four” in a very short time.
We went as an extended family group to see the seals at the shore at La Jolla one day, the animals at the San Diego Zoo the next. One evening Kelly, Parker, Ada, and Morgan made Hallowe’en themed cookies that we all took part in decorating. Morgan’s older children didn’t come this time—one of the advantages of joint custody is having the option to plan (at least for now) “adult only” activities during the week they’re with their dad.
We took a little time to have part of “the talk” with just Jason and Scott about our wishes if/when one or both of us should become incapacitated or die. Our wills from North Carolina will need to be updated for our new circumstances, and it will take us a while to develop the same kinds of support networks here that we had when we lived in Cary. Hope our preferences will not need to be exercised for a while yet. Glad we broached the subject, even if the conversation was somewhat awkward at times. We promised to start working on getting our wills updated and the house here put into a “family trust.” Once we’ve handled the paperwork, we’ll give Jason the contact information for the local lawyer’s office. Not sure if this part of autumn brings thoughts of death to everyone, but it’s been on our minds some lately.
Sister-in-law Wendy’s younger brother died earlier this year, of an apparent stroke or heart attack after he’d had a festive dinner with friends in Shenzhen in southern China. Apparently burial formalities are complicated by the somewhat fraught relationship between the People’s Republic and Hong Kong. Shenzhen, where Hilbert died, is one of the economic engines in the Pearl River Delta of the PRC, a booming “Special Economic Zone.” Hong Kong, where Hilbert officially resided, is still a “Special Administrative Zone,” with its own government and regulations separate from the PRC. It sounds as though Wendy is somewhat involved in trying to sort it all out. Much of the on-site effort is being handled by Hilbert’s common law widow. Hard work under very trying circumstances!
In weather news, it actually rained here earlier in the week—only an hour or so of fairly steady moisture-from-the-sky, but perhaps a start. I’ve been doing a good bit of walking in our new-to-us neighborhood, and have discovered a community garden, also known as “the giving garden,” about a mile uphill from our house, along a flat expanse behind the Tierrasanta Lutheran Church, overlooking one of the area canyons. I’ve met the garden coordinator, a winsome octogenarian named Carolyn, and chatted with her about the place. It was started in about 2008 by another local Lutheran, Carol, and has gradually expanded to 45 raised bed plots. Carolyn took over coordination duties some years ago, after founder Carol decamped to Kauai, Hawaii, to take up small scale farming on Hawaii’s “garden island.”
The garden area is fully fenced to keep out deer and other critters, but Carolyn wages ongoing battles with ground squirrels, local kangaroo rats, and other assorted interlopers. The gardening year at this certified “earth friendly” garden runs all twelve months, starting March 1 of each calendar year. Right now, all the plots are spoken for, but I added my name to a waiting list for next spring. Crossing my fingers that one of the older gardeners (but not Carolyn!) might choose to retire and free up a spot. Learning to garden in this climate would be a challenge (there is irrigation, with spigots at all the plots), but I’d have access to tools from the community tool shed and advice from the other gardeners. For now, I love walking along the paths between the plots and marveling at the “cool weather crops” people have planted—mostly cabbage family vegetables from the look of it.
Enough for now. Lots of virtual hugs. Please take good care!
Love, Jin
