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
