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…
Wednesday, February 2, 2022 (Imbolc, Groundhog’s Day): from Jinny in San Diego, CA to Sally in Taneytown, MD
Dear Sal,
Happy Groundhog Day from sunny southern California! We tried having a local “groundhog gala” this afternoon with some of the other older residents of Tierrasanta at the clubhouse of a seniors’ group we joined last fall. Getting across the concepts of snow and “winter” in southern California is challenging. One of the other “villagers” I talked with said the only time he’d seen snow was flying over the Colorado Rockies as he and his bride returned from their Caribbean honeymoon. There are ski areas in the mountains not too far from San Diego, but no one we’ve talked with can remember its ever snowing here. Despite the lack of winter, of local groundhogs, or of groundhog lore, the “gala” was a fun occasion. I’d found a recipe for groundhog cookies and some groundhog-shaped cookie cutters. At least one of the other Tierrasanta Village members is a superb baker and contributed her cookies, too.
We were lucky that the weather for the party here was at its southern California best—sunny and pleasant, with afternoon temperatures in the 70’s. The latest variant of covid is again causing spikes in infections and making people really nervous. Having the chance to open up the clubhouse doors and windows and to spend most of our time on an outdoor patio was a boon for all concerned.
Later this evening, we got a phone call from son Scott in Ohio, where a foot of snow is predicted overnight and schools are being closed in anticipation of the storm. Scott says that “Groot,” the name they’re using for now for the upcoming baby, is kicking vigorously enough to be noticeable. (When I asked who/what “groot” was, he explained that it’s a tree-like extraterrestrial character from a Marvel comics series, “Guardians of the Galaxy.” Lots of responsibility for a kid that’s not born yet…)
I’ve been spending a fair amount of outdoor time at the giving garden, even though I don’t yet have a plot. I’d brought enough garden tools with me from North Carolina to be able to do a fair amount of digging and pruning. There’s a local succulent bush that I’ve heard called “elephant grass,” which is not a grass at all, but which puts out small-leaved green branches almost continuously, even in dry weather. In a good pruning session, I can reduce several of the bushes along a garden-side hill outside the main gardening enclosure from leggy sprawlers to a more pleasing “snow globe” shape. I then take the clippings to a nearby dumpster.
I really enjoy talking with Carolyn, though my guess is that our political views are not very closely aligned. She’s on a fixed income and seems to get exposed to a good bit of media about the immigrants who are “stealing our jobs and benefits.” (Her media menu is decidedly mixed, though. In lieu of a cable television subscription, she gets Spanish language broadcasts from Mexico of local weather and sports events.) Since she moved to San Diego a generation or so ago, she’s learned a lot about local growing conditions.
Carolyn and her aging husband came here from Michigan to be near children and grandchildren in the area (sound familiar?). She spent several years after their move being first an on-site, then a visiting caregiver while her husband got increasingly incapacitated with dementia. I admire her. At one point she explained to me that, after her husband died, she “inherited a garden.” She works there nearly full time, with more stamina than many of us much younger than she is. I really hope I’ll get to be an official gardener with my very own plot come March.
Husband Jim and I are taking turns having “eye issues.” He’s scheduled to have cataracts removed in the next month or so. I’ve had two different ophthalmologists since I got here, due to health insurance changes. I’ve also had some trouble getting my prior medical records sent from the eye practice in Cary. It doesn’t look as if my glaucoma has caused any further damage—in one checkup, my vision had actually improved! I have prescriptions for eyedrops, probably somewhat similar to those Mom used. Ah, the joys of aging.
Coverage of the Winter Olympics looks as if it will be spotty with our current television and internet set-up. We might get a few chances to see highlights, though there are concerns that warmer weather will make some of the skiing events rather slushy. We have memories of watching early construction of the “Bird’s Nest” in 2006 when we were in Beijing, and of visiting the site again in 2017 on our most recent China trip. I believe some of the 2022 Olympic ceremonies will be held there. I’d like to see it again, even if just remotely. I imagine Olympic coverage at the farm is non-existent, so guess I should stop complaining. Please take good care. Lots of virtual hugs!
Love, Jin
