I am delighted to write the introduction to a newsletter that showcases the huge number and variety of ways we are working to help people live healthier, happier and more meaningful lives through horticulture. As you read, you will find many opportunities to join in – whether educational classes, our health and wellbeing programs or as a volunteer. I would particularly encourage you to look at the New England Fall Flower Show opportunities – all are welcome to submit entries, and we especially value newcomers and youth participation. If you have any questions about how this works, there are many staff and volunteers eager to guide you through the process if you reach out.
I want to highlight three articles that I think showcase how gardens and plants can be an enriching part of our lives. The first, a profile of Peter Del Tredici, demonstrates a deeply satisfying and distinguished career working with plants. It is so important to show the rising generation that working with plants is a valued and worthwhile career for them – Peter is clearly a role model for this.
The second is a lovely article written by our Managing Editor, Meghan Connolly. It illustrates just one aspect of our work to support mental health and wellbeing programs through the garden. In an age of rising fear and anxiety, the value of time in natural and designed landscapes is becoming increasingly recognized. I encourage you to sign up for these programs and look for more to follow.
Thirdly, From the Stacks reports on the ongoing excellent work of the MHS Library, which remains a world-class and important historical collection under professional care and management. Maureen O’Brien and a dedicated team of regular volunteers have an active program of
cataloguing, documenting and creating research tools to understand the collection and make it accessible online. Highlighted here is the Edwin Hale Lincoln original negative collection, which we hold and continue to work with, and which has supported a wonderful exhibit at the Boston Athenaeum which I encourage you to visit. It is a joy to see the hard work of many years in the library being recognized and valued once again and we look forward to it going from strength to strength.
Finally, the Garden at Elm Bank is thriving! I know this is a busy time in every garden, but do make time to visit us for inspiration, rest and relaxation. So much of what you read here can be seen, experienced, and appreciated in this garden we all love.
Plants, Flowers, & Veggies in the New England Fall
Flower Show!
Cut Specimens
Display one stem of a blooming annual, blooming perennial, woody plant, dahlia, and more.
Fruits and Vegetables
Display your onions, peppers, apples, tomatoes and more. Show off your harvest by creating a display container with a collection of veggies, fruits, and herbs.
Container-Grown Plants
Display herbs, cacti or succulents, foliage plants, and propagated plants.
ALL NEW:
Fairy Garden
Container! Create a miniature garden designed to look like a welcoming space for fairies.
Length of Ownership: All plants must have been owned and grown by the exhibitor since June 19, 2025 unless otherwise stated in the schedule.
Marianne Orlando is a landscape architect turned freelance illustrator who loves plants, and does commissioned drawings of homes, pets and people. You can see samples of her work at www.marianneorlando.com
Monarch butterfly (Danaus plexippus) on purpletop vervain (Verbena bonariensis)
B E N D I G N
THE GARDENING RULES
By Catherine Cooper
Idon’t often make time to visit gardens - I wish I did, but when I have free time, I’m usually out in my own yard trying to encourage plants I do want and remove those I don’t. That’s not to say my flowerbeds are completely overrun with weeds - far from it, but can someone tell me why turf grass grows best in a flower bed and conversely plants
like milkweed would prefer to establish themselves in the lawn, rather than the meadow area set aside for them?
Despite the frustrations of trying to keep the right plant in the right place, or perhaps more accurately accepting that I don’t always know best, the work I do in my garden enables me to remain familiar with what is happening and to appreciate not only the beauty of the plants but to note the progress or otherwise of the vegetation and the animal life it supports.
Having recently learnt more about pollinators, when I walk my garden to see what plants are flowering I now take a closer look to see what might be pollinating these flowers. It is rewarding to notice that there are a number of types of pollinators beyond honey and bumble bees. I
have seen bees ranging from tiny ones about a quarter of an inch long through to chunky eastern carpenter bees, as well as a nomada cuckoo bee. And then there are the hover or flower flies as well as the wasps that accidentally distributed pollen in their search for either nectar or other insects to fuel themselves or their young. I’m afraid my skills at naming bees precisely still needs to be honed and it is hampered by the quality of the photos my phone takes, which when trying to capture something small and constantly moving is something of a challenge, but if I can’t capture an image for posterity I can pause and just observe the natural world going about its business.
However, as well as the pleasure I derive from being outdoors, planting and tending things, there is much to be said for visiting other gardens. Whether it is sharing experiences in the home gardens of fellow enthusiasts which allows for the exchange of the triumphs and disasters that each gardening year brings or visiting public gardens, arboretums and botanical gardens which in turn brings a different type of horticultural experience, both experiences are pleasurable.
Visiting these sort of gardens is a sensory extravaganza, giving exposure to a greater variety of plants, planting styles and creative use of plants. I can come away from such visits with a mental list/photographic record of plants I wish to try in my garden or imaginative ways to use familiar plants. I particularly enjoy trips to botanical gardens, which aim to showcase many different plants from round the world in either naturalistic plantings or those that reflect the cultural styles of the countries in which they are found. I admire the controlled beauty and simplicity of Japanese gardens, for example, but know my pruning skills would not create such elegance. However, at the same time, the Japanese love of cherry blossom is something that is much more achievable.
The danger as far as I’m concerned is the desire to recreate some of what I
Rocky Mountain penstemon (Penstemon strictus)
see. If the climate is relatively similar to here then I’m tempted to see if I can add something unusual to my garden. This is particularly the case when I visit Colorado to see family. There is enough of a climate overlap in the Denver area for me to see if I can coax some plants readily grown there to adapt to Massachusetts. As with all such experiments some are more successful than others. The Rocky Mountain penstemon, Penstemon strictus, is doing really well in that I think I hit on the perfect spot for it. It’s on a sunny slope, so it gets summer heat, but in spring when it starts growing it experiences moisture echoing the fact it can be found wild growing at the base of slopes that catch meltwater. Similarly the Coloradan columbine, Aquilegia coerulea, is also doing well, but the Palmer’s penstemon, P. palmeri, is not so happy. I really can’t truly replicate plains desert-like conditions even though some of the planting areas abutting paved areas are suitably stony and lean. The elevation and therefore strength of sun is not the same, nor is the soil pH the same. However, it is an impressive scented penstemon and while my plants don’t show its full glory I can just get them to flower.
Another way I try to bend the gardening rules is by seeing if I can get plants that are borderline perennial here to come back the following year. I have tried with rosemary in a warm and sheltered spot; it came through one winter, but not this past one. Certain plants sold as annuals in the north east can come back for me if I allow them to go to seed. One such example is Verbena bonensiaris, which sometimes acts like the perennial it is, but more often than not has to self-seed in order to live another year. My current attempt at growing something
Monarch butterfly (Danaus plexippus) on purpletop vervain (Verbena bonariensis)
foreign is the South African thistle, Berkheya purpurea, which I have over the years photographed at RHS Gardens Wisley, the Harold Hillier Arboretum, both in England, and most recently at Denver Botanic Gardens, although until I looked back through my photos I couldn’t have told you that it had caught my eye on three separate occasions. With typical thistle leaves and soft lavender flowers more reminiscent of sunflowers in shape it is an unusual plant. I will be looking to save seed from it, although if I can’t get it to come back, I do know I can buy it as an exotic annual. The last plant I wish I could more easily find, although I could resort to the internet for seed, is an annual thistle found in the great plains. Argemone polyanthemos, prickly poppy is an annual or biennial poppy with papery white flowers and attractive glaucous foliage with strong veining. Hailing from the Plains it is well adapted to drought, so I like to think it would be at home in parts of my garden. However, I haven’t made any great effort to source it yet - it would seem a prickly South African thistle has been deemed worthy of garden cultivation, while a native midwestern thistle doesn’t inspire such interest. Fashion in flowers is seemingly as arbitrary as in clothes.
However, regardless of what I do or don’t have growing in any one year, this reflection on the pleasure derived from visiting gardens has reminded me that I don’t make much time to visit those gardens on my doorstep. They don’t have to be acres of unusual or exotic plants to have interest and there is much to be learnt and enjoyed just by seeing smaller, more intimate gardens that are open to the public. So that being said, can my plants please behave themselves for a few weeks - I’d like to take a stroll through a garden or two!
Born in England, Catherine learned to garden from her parents and from that developed a passion for plants. Catherine works assisting customers at the newest Weston Nurseries location in Lincoln. When not at Weston Nurseries, she can often be found in her flower beds or tending to an ever-increasing collection of houseplants.
South African thistle (Berkheya purpurea)
In First Person
Peter Del Tredici
Peter Del Tredici has had a long and distinguished career affiliated with Harvard University, starting in 1972 as a research technician at the Harvard Forest in Petersham, and since 1979 at the Arnold Arboretum. In addition, he was an Associate Professor in Practice in the Landscape Architecture Department at the Harvard Graduate School of Design from 1992 to 2016 and then taught in the Urban Planning Department at MIT from 2016 through 2019. He has published over 100 articles on a wide range of botanical and horticultural subjects, along with several books. Prestigious awards he has received include the Arthur Hoyt Scott Medal from the Scott Arboretum of Swarthmore College, honorary membership in the Garden Club of America, the Veitch Gold Medal from the Royal Horticultural Society (England) “in recognition of services given in the advancement of the science and practice of horticulture,” and the Horticultural Club of Boston’s Award of Recognition. Here is Peter’s story in his own words.
I was born and raised in Marin County, California in the town of San Anselmo where I spent much of my youth delivering papers, mowing lawns and watering my neighbor’s gardens in the summer. I entered the fruits and vegetables that I helped my mother grow in our garden in the local “Art and Garden” fair, motivated by the opportunity to win cash prizes.
I attended the University of California, Berkeley, (which both of my parents and all of my siblings attended) earning a BA degree in Zoology in 1968. I went to the University of Oregon and earned a Master’s Degree in Biology and then returned to California with no job or plan. I met my future wife Susan when I returned to Berkeley. She was taking a semester off from Harvard, and I decided to follow her back to Cambridge—where I had never been—in 1970. I had no idea where life would take me, but I was in love so it didn’t really matter.
Peter with Paperbark Maple (Acer griseum) in its native habitat on seed collecting trip in China, October 1994.
sweetfern
Comptonia peregrina
After teaching biology at a private school for two years, I landed a fulltime job at the Harvard Forest in Petersham, Massachusetts in 1972 as a Research Technician running a newly built research greenhouse. Despite having no formal training in horticulture, I managed to convince Professor John Torrey that I could handle the job studying nitrogenfixation in the non-leguminous sweetfern, Comptonia peregrina. The research culminated in 1978 with a publication in the journal Science describing the isolation of the symbiotic bacteria in the genus Frankia that was responsible for fixing nitrogen and, for the first time ever, growing it independent of its host plant.
With Susan working in Cambridge and me in Petersham, we moved to a house in the town of Harvard, halfway between our two jobs. By 1977 our first child, Sonya, was 18 months old and I left the Harvard Forest to take care of her while Susan went back to work. One of the things I remember about that time was teaching Sonya how to identify all the plants—including the weeds—that were growing in our garden. Amazingly, she learned the names of over fifty of them. About a year later, we moved to Somerville where my son, Luke, was born.
In 1979, the most significant event of my horticultural career occurred when I got hired as the Assistant Plant Propagator at the Arnold Arboretum of Harvard University. For the next 35 years I worked there, doing a variety of jobs including Curator of the Larz Anderson Bonsai Collection, Editor of Arnoldia, Director of Living Collections, and finally Senior Research Scientist. Concurrently, from 1992 through 2016 I was an Associate Professor in Practice in the Landscape Architecture Department at the Harvard Graduate School of Design. To say that Harvard University has been important to my career and my life is a vast understatement! Let me back up to describe a few details of my journey.
I can summarize my time at Harvard as being a hybridized mix of “practical” and “academic” experiences. As Plant Propagator and Curator of the Bonsai Collection, my responsibilities were very much “hands-on,” while subsequent responsibilities were more academic involving research and teaching. I was also fortunate to go on eight trips to China between 1989 and 2007, collecting seeds for the Arboretum’s collections and studying the Ginkgo tree in three of its remnant native habitats. As my own personal interests evolved over the years, I was extremely fortunate that Harvard provided me with a great deal of flexibility and allowed me to pursue my own research agenda.
At age 40, for example, I was able to “reinvent” myself by going back to graduate school at Boston University to earn a Ph.D. in Biology while continuing to work half-time at the Arboretum. My dissertation was on the ecology and evolution of the Ginkgo tree, pursuing a subject that had fascinated me for a very long time. In fact, I wrote my first article about Ginkgo for Arnoldia in 1981.
To this day I am still studying this monotypic genus, having just spent a week in Belgium visiting the oldest Ginkgo trees in Europe – dating back to the early 1700s. Of course these trees were young in comparison to the ancient Ginkgo trees in China, which I was fortunate to visit on several seed collecting and ecological research expeditions sponsored by the Arnold Arboretum. I can now say that I have been engaged in a “serious relationship” with the Ginkgo tree for over 40 years, so I suppose it is no coincidence that I am now considered a world authority on the ecology and cultivation of this amazing tree.
Ginkgo biloba by Lauren Meier from her MHS Certificate in Botanical Art Graduating Artist Exhibition: Historic Trees of Mount Auburn Cemetery
But let me move on. As mentioned earlier, I started teaching at Harvard’s Graduate School of Design (GSD) in 1992 (the year after I completed my Ph.D.). For many years this role was part-time on top of my fulltime job at the Arboretum. In 2004, I decided that the administrative responsibilities of being Director of Living Collections was not what I wanted for the rest of my career, so again I was fortunate that Harvard University supported me in going in a new direction. I became a Senior Research Scientist at the Arboretum for 50% time and assumed a 50% time teaching position at Harvard’s GSD. Scientific research had remained a passion of mine since my days studying Sweetfern in the greenhouse at Harvard Forest, so being able to spend more time using the Arboretum woody plant collections to study and write about a wide variety of botanical subjects was a gift. I have published over one hundred articles on topics such as: the taxonomy and cultivation of Magnolias, hemlocks (genus Tsuga) and Stewartias, the history of plant introductions from Japan and China, and the morphology of basal sprouting (resilience) in temperate trees. More importantly, my role as Senior Research Scientist was to connect with and involve other scientists from around the world to come to the Arnold Arboretum to utilize the woody plant collections.
In 2014 I retired from my 50% position at the Arboretum, but still today in 2025 I have an office at Weld Hill Research building and try to go there once a week to stay connected to my colleagues and to work on various research projects that never seem to end. I don’t know if I will ever be able to stop doing this!
Now back to my teaching graduate students in Landscape Architecture at the Harvard Graduate School of Design, which began in earnest in 2004 after going half-time at the Arboretum. In response to questions and encouragement from students and revisions in the curriculum, I began to focus more and more on urban ecology and the important role that plants play in making cities more livable for all their inhabitants. I was particularly interested in how plants were not only able to adapt to climate change, but also to urban life. My research on these topics led to the publication of “Wild Urban Plants of the Northeast: A Field Guide” (Cornell University Press, 2010, 2nd edition 2020). In a sense, this book and my focus on urban ecology and “spontaneous urban vegetation” enabled me to re-invent myself once again. Even now in the late stages of my career, I am regularly asked to speak on this topic and/ or participate on committees working on the challenges associated with climate change and invasive plants.
Like it or not, I characterize many “invasive” plants as being very resilient and, in a nutshell, able to adapt readily to changing environmental conditions. Particularly in urban situations where “nature” has been replaced with a human-centric agenda, non-native species are well adapted to all the pavement, excessive heat and compacted soil. Regardless of their origin I consider these plants to be the “de facto” native vegetation of the city. In the countryside, invasive species are
Peter photographing pineapple weed in Berlin, 2010.
widely recognized as a serious ecological problem, but we need to realize that trying to eradicate them at the landscape scale is not really an option and that we need to learn how to manage and co-exist with them.
Peter leading a tour of the Explorer's Garden at the Arnold Arboretum during the American Public Gardens Association Annual Conference in June 2024.
Tree on left is a Stewartia sinensis collected by Peter as a 6-inch seedling 30 years earlier in 1994 in the Hubei Province of China.
Much like the Ginkgo tree, I like to think that a recurring theme in my life and career has been one of resilience and adaptation. I have learned my best lessons from plants and paying attention to what they are telling us has made me a better teacher, researcher and gardener. My life has also been enriched by the “hybrid” nature of my practical and academic experiences and responsibilities throughout my career. Despite thinking early in my life that animals would be the focus of my career, I’m glad that I turned my attention to plants! They have treated me well.
For “In First Person,” Leaflet Editor-in-Chief Dave Barnett interviews people who have made their mark in horticulture and adjacent fields by asking a standard set of questions about their work and career, and then works collaboratively with them to write this column to share their passions and tell their story. This column offers an opportunity for them to share their passions and tell the story about what motivates them and how they define and measure success.
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RUMINATION
GERMINATION From to
BY JOHN LEE
John shares stories of Bert and Brenda and their gardening wisdom. These chronicles feature recipes, tried-and-true gardening practices, and seasonal struggles and successes. Bert and Brenda were first introduced in the March 2022 issue of Leaflet.
March of this year, it looked like winter would never end. Winter just felt like a virus they could not shake, a chest cold that would not go away. Mud season seemed interminable. It was as if climate
change was right here right now – the gloomy gray skies just hung about their shoulders like wet burlap. Life had been frustrating for an inveterate spring gardener. Seedlings were well-rooted in
their trays. Over the years and as their gardens had grown, their horticultural needs had actually begun to shrink, Bert and Brenda’s seed-starting practice had begun to be a bit more sophisticated. They had graduated from mass seedings in cut-off milk cartons to various - sized seeding trays that they scavenged year after year at the local swap shed. Over the years, procuring a few of these rarely-recycled inserts became a lot less onerous than collecting cheezy-smelling milk cartons or now more desirable egg cartons given the crisis in America’s hen houses. ‘Nest egg’ had taken a new significance and now all their neighbors were scavenging egg cartons left and right. Backyard birds were the new normal and a dozen multi-colored eggs had become the new house-present especially for those not graced with a green thumb and off-spring who needed a lesson in the care and maintenance of what might otherwise pass for pets. Seemed many of their neighbors were tiny 4-H projects without a leader who could have made ‘more’ of these islands of dawning domesticity. Brenda had tried to talk Bert into the job but he would not bite. They’d not had children of their own and he protested that, despite an elevated interest in the idea. He felt like a fish out of water when it came to talking to kids.
However, maybe he could/would volunteer to tutor someone if there was enough interest. What if one of the families wanted to branch out and raise a goat or two? Surely one of the up-andcoming new families would want their child to have a pony. Was there a local teacher who could be mentored? He and Brenda were willing and able to teach anyone who wanted to learn how to keep a garden and maybe how to save what was grown. Both had grown up with a minor menagerie of livestock which they had to care for as youngsters in their high and far-off times.
These thoughts were beginning to spin out of control. How could any of these seemingly domestic ideas be incorporated into the school curriculum at different grade levels. Gardening certainly
was a calculation problem. How much to grow, how much is too much, too little? If one pea seed produces eight peas, one Brussels Sprout plant maybe twenty harvestable sprouts, how many peas to sow, how many Brussels Sprout plants are needed to feed a family maybe only one meal (never mind for the season)? Were there still wider implications for teaching kids about science, history (technology, even)? If the school has a maker-space, could the older kids conceive and make/ test-drive tools?
Seeing that spring was already at hand and the school year about to come to a grinding halt, there was more than enough time to ruminate on these ideas. Suffice it to say, Bert and Brenda
chewed over these ideas over their evening meals. She did a little arm-twisting (maybe overplanted the we-should-do-it department) and then let this ‘garden’ rest. She was well aware that their plates were already full and that if any of these ideas were going to take root, they would need a helping hand. If the school were to become involved, then seed-money, so to speak, would be required and likely some red tape if the school was as diligent about complicating a simple project as town government. Brenda could see that Bert was crossing his arms and getting a bad attitude.
Over their morning coffee a few days later, Bert let it be known that ’community’ at the community school might not be such a bad idea after all IF he did not have to manage it. There would need to be some construction which might be donated but everything else could be provided by local gardeners. Perhaps the recently moribund garden club would take on the project. A few flowering plants might dress up and inspire the greenery and other abundance that would surely arise from such a project. Backyard growers like themselves could raise the necessary transplants to get the beds off to a good start before the end of the school year and careful succession plantings
would have the beds in fine fettle for the returning students. One of the local houses of worship would harvest the summer yields for the food pantry or the senior center. Why was this not a good idea (if someone wanted to take it on)?
Such ruminations were, actually, fairly routine in Brenda’s brain. True, neither of them were wellconnected in the town anymore. They, and most of their friends, were of an age when social and committee opportunities were fading fast. Neither were particularly religious, and they had long since done their time on the school and other boards. In town, there were not even any fraternal organizations that had survived COVID. Thus, all the more reason to reinvigorate a ‘community’ around community care, cooperation and the new buzz-word – sustainability. What seemed natural to them seemed foreign to many of their neighbors: the idea of sharing the bounty they could grow even in their border gardens. Bert had pontificated for years about interplanting flowers and vegies. Many vegetable plants made stunning accents in a floriferous border: chicories, Italian dandelion, artichokes, fennel, for example, for the back of the beds; lettuces in their myriad forms and colors in the forefront brought food for the eye and the
table – pick a bouquet for the table and a salad for supper without leaving home.
All this got Bert to thinking that while they enjoyed their solitude, there was likely a knowledge gap in the education of their would-be grandchildren’s education. He and Brenda could do something about it. Over coffee, such thoughts were escalatory. Working with kids might be more fruitful than trying to persuade his erstwhile neighbors to begin to fend for themselves. One PTA meeting and a trip to the lumberyard turned out to be enough to get germination albeit a little late for a crop this spring. Several rows of fast-growing radishes and a few herb transplants was enough to get the ball rolling with a verbal agreement (expressed intention?) from the food pantry to pursue a summer crop and have a full garden for when the kids came back to school in the fall. For Bert, this had been a significant leap of faith. But with Brenda’s encouragement, he did take a modicum of pride in having made the effort in spite of himself.
For her part, Brenda offered a spring foraging afternoon to any of the teaching staff who might be interested. She and Bert annually looked forward to foraging. It was a rite of passage and was always
about a month or six weeks after the annual salamander migration or about the time the now-ubiquitous and hated garlic mustard started to bloom. First it was the fiddleheads then the wild ramps and then the stinging nettle. Bert was fond of fiddleheads sauteed in a little butter. Ramps were hard to find and they were loathe to share their secret wild ramp patch. Over the years it had spread nicely because Brenda only harvested a few of the greens leaving ninety percent of the crop to go to seed and multiply. She left the little white bulbs to regrow. She left the nettles alone entirely. Bert would have nothing to do with plants that disliked
John
him so much, even though they were known around the world for their medicinal and nutritional properties. His prostate was just fine, thank you very much. He had no micturitional issues and, if for no other reason, the very thought of eating stinging nettles was, well, nettlesome. Brenda had tried to offer them in a curry or two but he held out: nettles were simply weeds and belonged in the compost. There were other ‘weeds’ that were preferable such as ‘pussly’ (or purslane) which grew quite nicely in any ill-kept garden row and made a rather nice salad green or chickweed which thrived along the edges of the compost piles and tastes pretty much like spinach. Neither were particularly seasonal and you didn’t have to go hunting for them.
But, truth be told, both of them were looking forward to the first lettuces, pea shoots and spring onions. They were the real harbingers of spring and, like the profusion of pansies and spring bulbs, the hope for warming soils, lengthening days meant coming to the end of last year’s larder was less frightening. They would eat fresh again.
Lee is the retired manager of MHS Gold Medal winner Allandale Farm, Cognoscenti contributor and president of MA Society for Promoting Agriculture. He sits on the UMASS Board of Public Overseers and is a long-time op-ed contributor to Edible Boston and other publications.
There is no record so true as the good photographic study; and as we see the conditions of plant life eternally changing everywhere, the value of these permanent authentic records to future generations cannot be over-estimated.
Edwin Hale Lincoln (1848–1938)
Collections – The Lincoln Collection
Lincoln’s words are prophetic. He chose platinum printing, the most enduring and luxurious printing technique, to develop his glass plate negatives. If properly preserved, a platinum image does not deteriorate and can last indefinitely. His work is valued not only for its aesthetic beauty and the quality of his images, but also as a scientific and historic record of wild flowers in New England in the early twentieth century.
After Lincoln’s death in 1938, his family was very thoughtful on the disposition of their treasure trove of glass plate images. The Peabody Essex Museum received Lincoln’s nautical images, Lenox Library Association received his Western Massachusetts Country Place Era architectural images and Massachusetts Horticultural Society (MHS) received his botanical and horticultural images. It was honored to receive the plates, describing them as “being the finest collection of eastern wild flowers in existence today.” Anticipating frequent use of the negatives, MHS set up a dark room at Horticultural Hall to develop the prints as needed.
Colleen and Richard Fain recently honored MHS with their donation of a complete set of Edwin Hale Lincoln’s magnum opus, Wildflowers of New England. Previously, Colleen Fain, Lincoln’s great granddaughter, generously supported the preservation of the MHS’ Lincoln glass
Wildflowers of New England, Edwin Hale Lincoln. The books are in excellent condition. Lincoln’s attention to detail is seen in the design and quality of the books. These books were once owned by the Boston Museum of Natural History, which changed its name to the Boston Museum of Science in 1951.
plate negatives. This new donation is the perfect complement to those Lincoln glass plates that he used to create his platinum prints over 100 years ago.
During his long life, Lincoln's award-winning work was highly regarded by his peers and the public. Lincoln began his career photographing yachts, particularly wooden yachts in full sail, in Boston and Newport. He was one of the first architectural photographers and had commissions in Chicago, Newport, Philadelphia, Washington and western Massachusetts. After moving to the Berkshires, he specialized in nature photography, supplemented by other commissions. In addition to the photography awards he received early in his career, Lincoln received the Silver Centennial Medal in 1929, and Gold Medals from Massachusetts Horticultural Society in 1922 and from the American Orchid Society in 1932.
Lincoln’s botanical work was considered as “modernist,” and was admired by the artistic and scientific communities as well as the public. His Wildflowers and Orchids were collected by university science and art departments, museums and individual collectors. They were also important contributions to two early twentieth century movements: the back-to-nature movement and the movement to include photography in the fine arts.
Lincoln used a large, heavy 8x10 box camera. His medium for reproduction was platinum—preferred by artistic photographers in the
early twentieth century for its beauty, longevity and the extraordinary control it allowed—notably, P.H. Emerson, F. Holland Day and Alfred Stieglitz. This medium is no longer used in today's developing processes.
Lincoln self-published the 8 volume Wildflowers, beginning with Volume I in 1904. While details of each production varied over the years, the quality of the components remained consistent. Today, a complete set is rarely found outside of institutions, as it is believed that only 50 sets were published. Unfortunately, many sets have been disassembled for sale as individual prints.
MHS is fortunate to be the caretaker of this complete set that exemplifies Lincoln’s intent, foresight and talent. We look forward to sharing this treasure with the public.
Thinking of a day trip to Boston this summer? From June 10 – September 5, 2025, the Boston Athenaeum is presenting an exhibit, Wild Flowers of New England, that features Lincoln’s work. MHS loaned glass plate negatives and seed catalogs to the Boston Athenaeum for the exhibit.
△ Wildflowers of New England, Vol. 1, Parts 1 and 2 (1911). Volume I, lettered in gold gilt on spine and front, is in excellent condition and is representative of all 8 volumes. Inside there are Latin and common name indexes for each plant depicted. Each volume is enclosed in a custom box that includes the title, volume #, etc. To enhance their integrity, those boxes need conservation due to ordinary wear and tear.
▽ Wildflowers of New England, Vol. 1, Part I, 1. “Hepatica Acutiloba, Hepatica, Liverwort, Liver-Leaf,” (1911.) Each image is 7.25x9.25, the same size as the glass plate negative. They are tip mounted on the embossed frame on heavy textured rag paper. Letterpress printing was used for the captions, i.e., Latin and common names of the plants.
MHS Book Club
The Book Club meetings take place on the third Tuesday of the month at 1:30 pm in the Crockett Garden. Please note that there is no meeting in July 2025. All are welcome to attend.
Here are the books for the Club’s upcoming discussions:
August 19 Merry Hall by Beverly Nichols
September 16 Night Magic: Adventures Among Glowworms, Moon Gardens, and Other Marvels of the Dark by Leigh Ann Henion
October 21
The Forbidden Garden: The Botanists of Besieged Leningrad and Their Impossible Choice by Simon Parkin
COME VISIT!
The Library is open on Thursdays from 10 a.m. to 1 p.m. and on Fridays and Sundays from Noon to 3 p.m., and at other times by appointment. Please email Library & Archives Manager Maureen O’Brien for an appointment if you want to schedule a visit.
Little Sprouts
A monthly class designed to foster a love and sense of wonder for the outside world in your child, geared towards preschool age students. Each month, we will explore a seasonal theme through a 5-senses garden walk, story-time, a hands-on craft or activity, and a take home kit.
REGISTER HERE
$20 Nonmembers | $12 Members Registration covers one adult and one child.
July: Pollinators
Tuesday, July 22 | Thursday, July 24
The garden is alive with activity in July - come join Kristen to learn all about the pollinators that make our gardens grow! Kiddos will observe pollinators and flowers on a 5-senses walk, learn about why pollinators are friends not foes, and engage in sensory play before heading home with a take-home game!
August: Sunflowers
Tuesday, August 12
Thursday, August 14 10:30-11:30am
October: Leaves
Tuesday, October 14
Thursday, October 16 10:30-11:30am
September: Vegetables
Tuesday, September 23
Thursday, September 25 10:30-11:30am
November: My First Winter Hike!
Tuesday, November 11
Thursday, November 13 10:30-11:30am
On Gardens for Mental Wellbeing
By Meghan Connolly
Just 10 minutes in nature could change your life. Maybe not immediately. It might be 10 minutes every day, or even 1 hour a week. It could be a 10-minute pause, alone, experiencing your surroundings. Maybe it’s a couple of hours of guided breathing and sensing. A life-changing experience need not be an epiphany.
Photo Courtesy of Nadine Mazzola
Oftentimes, small changes to the way we exist with our environment can lead to an improvement in the way we approach relationships, tasks, and challenges.
Physically, spending time outdoors can improve your health, an idea supported by both historical and modern research. Across dozens of studies, exposure to greenspace is associated with positive health outcomes, including lower blood pressure, cortisol and heart rate; improved lung and cardiovascular health; and overall higher selfreported health. It can regulate your nervous system, help you sleep better, and even improve your connection with your surroundings, pets, and loved ones.
The practice of being outside can come in many forms: walking through a park, sitting in your own backyard, exploring a botanical garden. It can be as informal or formal as it needs to be. Take shinrin-yoku, the Japanese practice of forest bathing, for example. Forest bathing is a meditative practice of “taking in, in all of one’s senses, the forest atmosphere,” according to the Global Wellness Institute. You could be walking or sitting, but it’s more importantly about the conscious effort of taking in what you hear, see, smell, and feel.
Think of a moment when you walk through the gates of a garden. You’re not sure what you’re going to see, but the moment you see it, you’re truly just experiencing it, taking it all in. That instance between initial noticing and resulting thinking. Your mind hasn’t yet wandered into thinking about capturing it, sharing it, analyzing it. It’s still experiencing what exactly is around you. According to Nadine Mazzola, forest bathing is like a more extended time of that exact moment.
Photo Courtesy of Nadine Mazzola
Restrictions or commands should not be placed on this experience, guides Nadine, a trainer and certified guide of forest bathing and director of New England Nature and Forest Therapy Consulting. Forest bathing practices can be simple invitations to slow down and relax for just a couple of hours and about giving yourself permission to enjoy what’s right in front of you. At its core, forest bathing is about “going just a bit slower than we usually go," says Nadine, and “switching from our thinking, learning, beautiful minds to being in our five senses.” When we do that, we are instantly immersed in the experience of wherever we are.
A practice like this can take some getting used to. Having a more structured experience can support those who might be new to mindful practices in nature. Nadine encourages interested practitioners to find what’s helpful for them and test some different formats out. Guided experiences, like Nadine’s Forest Bathing and Nature Immersion with Watercolors, are hosted in partnership with outdoor spaces like the Garden at Elm Bank (Wellesley, MA), Assabet River National Wildlife Refuge (Sudbury, MA) and, aptly, the land of Thoreau (Concord, MA). These organized times and places can also provide the defined space to say “we’re here for the next hour and this is what we’re doing,” according to Nadine.
Top: Nadine forest bathing. Bottom: A forest bathing class in progress. Courtesy of Nadine Mazzola.
Nadine encourages people to find what’s helpful for them, whether it’s taking a walk in a new green space, spending some time experiencing their own garden in a new way, or signing up for a class. It can be as simple as finding where your growth zone is—that space that’s slightly out of your comfort zone, but not too far that it’s inhibiting or frightening. Places like botanical gardens and parks can strike that balance between the familiar and the unknown. Where one can find both community and solitude. In these spaces, opportunities exist to experience beauty, awe and wonder; get lost in scent, sounds, and sights; and connect to yourself, your community, and your environment.
Some spaces were created with the express purpose of providing opportunities for thoughtful meandering and sensory contemplation. For centuries, labyrinths, which comprise a continuous, meandering path, have been created and used as “tools for personal, psychological, and spiritual transformation,” according to The Labyrinth Society. Traced back to 3,000 and 4,000 years ago across Europe and Asia, labyrinths have long been a way for societies to practice slowness, find peace, and connect with their environment and community.
The Labyrinth Society promotes global labyrinth tourism through its Labyrinth Locator, which features over 6,600 labyrinths across 90 countries. Massachusetts is home to 120 registered labyrinths, including one launched in 2023 at the Garden at Elm Bank. Featured here is over 2,000 feet of walking paths bordered by Purple Sensation
Labyrinth at the Garden at Elm Bank
Allium (Allium ‘Purple Sensation’) flowers in the spring and Purple Tears Switchgrass (Panicum virgatum ‘Purple Tears’) in the summer and fall. An adaptation of the 8-ring Chartres, it is adapted to enable immediate exit from the center, whereas many labyrinths require retracing the labyrinth path to exit. Guests are invited to join generations who have appreciated these designs by taking approximately 12-15 minutes to follow the path to its center.
"Often people will experience the direct benefits associated with intentional time in nature, such as a relaxing moment and even lower heart rates, to over time gaining a sense of belonging."
Whether walking a labyrinth or taking a guided forest bathing course, these experiences may only last a matter of minutes or hours. While they can open your mind to a continual, growing practice or even occasional reminders, even these short, defined moments of time can be life-changing. A participant of Nadine’s 2-hour forest bathing class shared that the class transformed her life. What started as a relief from daily routines and stresses then trickled into a dinnertime conversation with her family. This single session became a tool for her whole family to approach mental health challenges together.
NADINE MAZZOLA
A forest bathing class in progress. Courtesy of Nadine Mazzola.
Other participants simply share that after some time of taking the course, they’ll never walk the same way again. It’s changed their relationship with being in nature. From always walking and thinking quickly to noticing so much more, they end up realizing how much a part of everything they are. “What’s most incredible about the progression of this practice,” Nadine reflects, “is that often people will experience the direct benefits associated with intentional time in nature, such as a relaxing moment and even lower heart rates, to over time gaining a sense of belonging.”
Even for a longtime practitioner and experienced facilitator like Nadine, new experiences and realizations are an inevitable outcome. In her own backyard, she sat and watched her surrounding progress from early evening into twilight, which reminded her to create more moments to witness those daily shifts from dawn to day, afternoon to sunset.
Top right: Nadine guiding a forest bathing session. Bottom left: Nadine forest bathing. Courtesy of Nadine Mazzola.
Creating these opportunities in nature may not come naturally and may not always seem possible. But they remain steadfastly important. Whether you seek calmness or community, health or belonging—or some of all these—the answer may very well be in your neighborhood or your own backyard. Perhaps a forest bathing course is the right fit for you or to make more time to visit your local gardens and green spaces. If you have a dog, your daily walks are a perfect time to incorporate mindful moments, which you can read more about in Nadine’s award-winning book called Forest Bathing with Your Dog. For Mental Health Awareness month and every month, find a way to bring sensory outdoor experiences into your life. The risks are few and the benefits are plentiful.
Massachusetts Horticultural Society invites members and professionals of the mental health community to reach out with opportunities to create enriching experiences and stories about the healing power of gardens and gardening. Please contact marketing@masshort.org to share your experiences and ideas to partner for future classes. To view our upcoming classes and workshops, visit our website.
