A Conversation with Suzanne Hayes and Loretta Nyhan
January 19, 1943
ROCKPORT, MASSACHUSETTS
Dear “Garden Witch,”
I’ve stained my fingers blue trying to do this right.
Tonight, though, I’m feeling rather lonesome and overwhelmed, so I’m throwing caution to the wind and finally writing to you, a woman I do not know, with the honest understanding that you might not have the time (or desire) to write back in return.
I guess the best place to begin is at the beginning, right?
There’s a ladies’ 4-H group that meets at the church hall on Wednesday afternoons. I don’t really fit in, but I’m trying to pass the time. Anyway, they didn’t give out real names, only these addresses, you know? And said if we felt lonesome (which I do) or desperate (which I didn’t...but I feel it creeping in on me day by day) or anything, we could sit down and write a letter to another girl who might be in the same situation. The situation. I just loved the way Old Lady Moldyflower (Mrs. Moldenhauer) said it. What does she know about our “situation”?
They passed a hat around that held pieces of paper with fake names and real addresses. I suppose the purpose is anonymity, but I figured if we are going to write, why not know each other? The paper slips hadn’t been folded, and the girls were sifting through, picking whichever struck their fancy. The whole exercise felt silly and impractical, to tell you the truth. I wasn’t going to take a name at all, but Mrs. Moldenhauer nudged me so hard I believe she left a bruise on my upper arm. To spite her, I picked last. I guess the other girls skipped over you because you have “witch” in your fake name. I feel lucky I got you. I could use a little magic these days.
