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When Dahl landed her position at Ohio State in 1991, she and Rice had a problem. They were living in Cincinnati, where Rice, 56, is a lawyer, and O.S.U.'s campus was two hours away--too far to commute. Drawn to big-sky vistas and the rustling sound of wind through the cornstalks, they decided to live in the countryside midway between the two cities, buying a farm near Martinsville, a hamlet eight miles south of Wilmington. Though they had never thought about what to do with their acreage besides look at it, farmers began vying to lease the land, and Rice cut a deal with one to keep the place in production.
Dahl, an elegant woman accustomed to a rich social life, was at first unnerved by her newfound solitude. She tried to telecommute, exchanging E-mail and collaborating on academic work via the Internet, but her fax and modem overloaded her rural phone line, requiring 20 visits from the repairman before the problem was solved. She and Rice learned that there was no fine dining in the area, and that cooking well for guests meant packing in provisions from Cincinnati or Columbus. When Dahl went to the local grocery and asked for pasta, she was directed to a shelf of boxed macaroni and cheese. (Demand has since improved the selection.) When she asked for arugula, she was told to grow it. That had been her plan, but first she and Rice had a few things to learn about horticulture.
They mulched their first garden with bales of straw they found in the barn, but the straw was loaded with seed, "so we had shoulder-high weeds in no time," says Rice. Their attempt at a two-acre wildflower meadow--the current planting of choice for exurban sophisticates--was also overrun by native grasses. A Japanese beetle infestation led them to buy traps that attract the insects with a sexual scent. Such traps work well in suburban backyards, but on a farm they work too well. "We filled garbage bags with the bastards," says Rice. Finally, they asked a neighboring farmer for advice. "He fell off his tractor laughing," says Rice. "He said, 'Paul, you don't trap 'em. You spray 'em!'"
Eventually, Rice and Dahl became skilled, contented gardeners, enjoying contemplative weekends in the sun, raising a cornucopia of produce and preserving much of it for the winter. They turned their attention to cultivating friendships--becoming close friends with a nearby farm couple, joining a country club and getting to know a circle of longtime Wilmingtonians. A new acquaintance invited Dahl to a meeting of the Wednesday Book Club, a women's discussion group that has convened once a month for 60 years. Dahl attended a meeting, sipping wine, chatting about books and gossip. She didn't know it, but her visit was an audition, "like a sorority rush." It took three months and a call-back audition before the newcomer was invited to join the club.
THE LADIES OF THE CLUB