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Catherine Hirsh recalls 42 years in Garden Club
BY MARGO OXENDINE • CONTRIBUTING WRITER
 | | Catherine Hirsh celebrated her 92nd birthday July 19 by hosting the Warm Springs Valley Garden Club at Meadow Lane farm. (Recorder photo by Margo Oxendine) |
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MEADOW LANE - Flower-bedecked chapeaux. Breezy summer sundresses. Genteel conversation.
Sounds like just what you'd expect at a garden party, eh?
Now, add some bubbly champagne, loud guffaws, and a feisty 92-year-old grande dame as speaker, and you've got a garden party to remember.
It was all about the memories when the Warm Springs Valley Garden Club met at Meadow Lane farm last Thursday. Catherine Hirsh, mistress of Meadow Lane, regaled 30 members and guests with reminiscences of the 42 years she's been involved with the club, either as an active or honorary member.
Hirsh attended her first meeting in 1964. She and her husband, the late Philip R. "Phip" Hirsh Sr., had just taken up residence at Meadow Lane, which had been in his family for decades.
"I don't know of any other way to describe the club at that time, other than very starchy," she began. The meeting convened at The Yard, home of Daniel Ingalls Sr. and his first wife, Phyllis. "Phyllis spent every meeting sitting quietly, knitting argyle socks."
 | | Thirty women in summery attire paid tribute to Catherine Hirsh last Thursday. Hirsh entertained the group with anecdotes and reminiscences about her 42 years in the Warm Springs Valley Garden Club. (Recorder photo by Margo Oxendine) |
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Hirsh, as slim and gorgeous as any woman celebrating her 92nd birthday could be, recalled the four garden club members in the room as "a sea of hefty legs." Also present was Anne Lennon. "She was an avid golfer, and was married to Tom Lennon, who was in charge of the hotel at that time," Hirsh noted. "He ran a tight ship, and that was when The Homestead was at its best."
Ann Harnsberger, wife of Dr. Jim, hotel physician, is remembered by Hirsh as "a big woman with startling red hair, who loved to laugh." The room was rounded out by Virginia Carver, "who loved to play cards, everything from bridge to poker." She was married to Bryan Carver, commonwealth's attorney.
By the 1970s, the Warm Springs Valley Garden Club had evolved into "a cohesive group of gung-ho women," said Hirsh. "We were dirt farmers, basically. We liked to get out there in the garden and get our hands dirty. We arranged flowers. We gardened." With Karin Ellis and Jean vonSchilling, Hirsh said the club worked hard. "We put window boxes in the storefronts downtown, as well as at the bank and the post office. We planted all the dogwood trees in the Warm Springs cemetery. We just did it out of love and fun."
Hirsh attributes the amount of free time club members seemed to have at the time to a lack of modern technology. "Back then, the only thing technological we had was the telephone," she cracked. "We had free time. We also spent a lot of time with our martinis at lunch," she added. "It was quite a gung-ho group. Maybe it was the martinis."
Club members take turns hosting monthly meetings, each usually opening her home and garden to her peers, and serving luncheon, with or without martinis.
"I remember once when we hosted the meeting here at Meadow Lane," Hirsh continued. "Phip was making the lunch - he was a marvelous chef, a passion of his. We knew Elinor Hopkins was coming, and that she had an odd fear of feathers. We tried to make sure the men put all the chickens away, so there was no sign of them. But sure enough, just as Elinor came out to leave, a feather floated through the air and landed on her. Everyone rushed out when they heard her scream, but she had fainted dead away."
By now, some of those gathered were wiping tears of laughter from their eyes. But Catherine Hirsh was not finished reminiscing. Not by a long shot.
"Another time, we decided to hold the annual picnic dinner down at our barn. We had worked hard getting it in order, and it was quite lovely - nine tables for 10, wine, candelabra. Things were going along swimmingly, until the air was pierced with a sudden shriek.
"There was Ann Harnsberger, staring at her enormous dinner ring, which was covered with a big glob of gray something. I looked around, and there was Abby Ingalls Calder with a napkin on her head, quite distressed. Turns out, we'd missed a couple of guinea hens, who had decided to perch in the tree right above their table."
Hirsh grinned and shrugged. "What can you say?"
After a few more amusing and/or alarming anecdotes about various farm animals, Hirsh had to shout over the laughter and hubbub in order to bestow her parting words: "I am a very weird woman!"
Weird. And wonderful. And entertaining. And still feisty at 92.
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