Cover of a Va Beach Master Gardener newsletter, art by Ajah Courts, c.1997.
Somewhere in the Bible (Deuteronomy 24:19-21, Leviticus 19) and other ancient histories, there are references to the act of gleaning. For definition sake, gleaning is basically taking the leftovers in a field or garden after its initial harvest or processing. So, someone gleaning may get the pumpkins that ripened later or an errant cornstalk that’s still standing with a few ears left on it.
Modern-day gleaning seems rare, and in any case, the name of the newsletter I inherited to edit was called ‘Gleanings,’ and the only thing I think about it that actually related to gleaning was the small morsels I could actually share at the end of long and arduous days when I was raising three children under the age of five. At the time I edited the newsletter, I was trying to learn gardening, beekeeping, raising chickens and rabbits, operating without a dishwasher, breastfeeding, baby-wearing, co-sleeping, cloth-diapering, and practicing ongoing remodels and retro-fitting our post-World War Two-era house, while also becoming an environmental activist.
I jumped in with both feet, learning how to grow all manner of fruits, vegetables, herbs, shrubs and water plants, and about once every month or two, I would attempt to coalesce some of the goings-on into a 4-6 page newsletter for the 200 or so Virginia Beach Master Gardeners on my trusty old Brother word processor. After the Brother gave up the ghost, I used an ancient 80s computer handed down from my actual brother.
The readers – ladies and the few gents among them- mostly had large Oceanfront homes, established gardens, and indeed, their own gardeners to go with them. I was not to be derailed; my mission and focus was on low-impact gardening, growing food, heritage seeds and building community in our large city through my meandering essays, spotty calendars, trivial blurbs, and items contributed from the more experienced and encouraging MGs. (Master Gardeners).
These newsletters were usually turned in to our amused extension agent minutes before the deadline, who never suggested I remove my daughters’ art that proudly graced every available space within its pages. Each issue documented her work to a captive audience while she was roughly the age of four to six.
I am pretty sure no one else saved their issues except for me, but when I look through them, I instantly recall writing with birds in the snow beyond my window, kids tugging at me for innumerable immediate needs. My earnest task of maintaining a word processor and then learning ‘Word’ for the first time with its fancy clip art and specialized newsletter program comes back to me at once.
Speaking of clip art, I now cringe at the few samples I used; its inclusion now makes the finished product seem more dated than the timeless children’s art I originally used exclusively. I think I saw Ajah’s artistic potential even then (like any other mother) and one of my favorite pictures that she ever drew remains the line drawing of a scarecrow: plaid patches, tattered straw hat, and of course, a crow sitting atop its whole form, singing sweetly, not scared at all.
It makes me wish I’d asked her to illustrate more of the newsletter, or or kept at it longer. Now that she is an aspiring illustrator, with cover art from New Moon in her resume several years ago, an associate’s in art and in her second year at VCU’s acclaimed art school, its obvious that this has been one of her life’s endeavors. I am glad that in the near future, even more people will get to enjoy her whimsical designs that usually exude such joy.
So. After several years of helping produce the newsletter called ‘Gleanings’ for what could essentially be called true gleaners, I still fantasize about starting back up with the same name for a different audience. I very much enjoy the well-though out zines called ‘Joyful Dissent’ and ‘Small Change’ that community-minded friends produce in Charlottesville. I wonder if having a self-induced deadline to readers would get me writing more ambitiously again, and, more importantly, would it make me a more effective gleaner this go-round?
I know all around me are apples, perfectly good non-wormy ones, falling to the found every (ha) Fall, being eaten by no one, and that saddens me. Surely, there are several dumpsters with plenty of good food and clothes that could find their way to our homes or those that want or need them, saving us all money while lessening the burned upon the landfills.
After all, even the Bible directs the planet’s inhabitants to be wise stewards and not take for granted the bounty of the earth. (“The earth belongs to the Lord, and everything in it, the world and all its people.” Psalm 24:1 )
Yet, aside from the four gallon cubes I rescue(d) from a select-few restaurants down in Scottsville for their vegetable oil to power my ancient “greasecar” Mercedes, I’ve done little gleaning as of late.
I do try to alert friends and fellow Barter network members of surplus from our garden (i.e. birdhouse gourds for mosquito-eating Purple Martins) or Doug’s Maytag in town (surplus cardboard for sheet mulching). We share our seeds, extra plants and wood piles with those we are certain will make good use of the items. Our extra clothes get passed off first from me, down from daughter-to-daughter, and then on to friends with younger kids, or onto our porch for Freecyclers , or into town to the Free Store, where we also find stuff too when we go there in the attempt to thin things out.
These things make me feel good, but in honoring the memory of my first regular writing gig for which I had a sizable audience, I find myself wishing I could do more with my writing. Affecting social change takes different forms for different folks, but I do believe people should live the art they love to do so their passion comes through and the change becomes visible.
I was not an editor for any record-breaking amount of time, and it will soon be ten (fifteen) years since I put down the pen/word processor newsletter program to move onto other chapters of writing, activism, and child-raising. But the word ‘gleanings’ to me now conjures up so many hopes and dreams….ones that I do not wish to forget any time soon.