Spotlight on…..John Lynch (1922-2009)

A robin’s nest, a fern fossil, a dead monarch butterfly, a set of slides of frogs, toads and salamanders – what do they have in common?  These treasures are all different things I have found on my desk over the years, following a visit by John Lynch.  John passed away last November, leaving a long legacy behind him here at the Society.  As a photographer, he donated hundreds of slides to our collection – they help form the backbone of our image collection.  A small section of garden just in front of the Lucas Administration Building is planted with special donations from John’s garden in Framingham. And we can’t forget “Lady in Red” -a selection of lady’s fern, Athyrium angustum, with burgundy stems that John found in his own garden and presented to the Society.  Now named and propagated by our nursery, it has gone forth into the horticultural world.  We will miss John’s visits to the Garden, but feel so fortunate to have known such a remarkable person, one who truly marveled at the natural world and use many talents to share that wonder with others.

                                    - Bonnie Drexler, Education Director

Should You See Spring

Should you see spring,

the liver-leafed hepatica

burst blue where winter’s grass

has slowly fed the earth,

or the fern’s green coil unwind

from out the whorl of last year’s fronds…

O tell me now!

For summer died before I saw it go,

breaking up along the shore like

brittle cattail reeds, and fall’s

first frost came one night I slept

and woke to find the gentian leaves

burned brown by cold.

Long winter held the fields in ice and snow,

stirring winds that snapped the fragile

spike of sumac, bending down the branches

of the trees, and when, first thaw,

I walked the roads and watched the stones

break loose, the river swell and quicken in

its course, I looked but saw no green thing yet.

The leaves lay dead and damp upon the ground,

a year’s old thimbleweed lay broken-stemmed…

but nothing green, or blue, at white or fire

of spring shone out, but winter waiting yet,

waiting for its time held on.

And so each day I walk the road and watch,

and cross the field, sinking in the

freshening sod, and wait. I hear the river

breaking on its way, I see the circling hawk

upon the wind, the swollen hickory buds,

the strings of clouds. . . it shall be soon

for all the signs are here…

The hidden petals press within the earth,

the earth rounds out, rounds out ready

to uncoil, burst blue, burst green, flame white...

O tell me now,

should you see spring!

                                    -John A. Lynch