“Forevermore we are going to have to be hyper-vigilant. It came in once and it could come in again.”
—Grant Bogle, president of Twin Lakes Association
SALISBURY — An aggressive and costly three-year battle to rid East Twin Lake of a genetically unique strain of hydrilla that chokes lakes and obliterates native plants appears to have finally paid off.
“The good news is, the hydrilla is pretty much gone. We have not found anything,” George Knoecklein of Northeast Aquatic Research (NEAR), the Twin Lakes Association’s limnologist, reported during its fall coalition meeting of local, state and federal scientists, environmentalists and stakeholders on Tuesday, Oct. 8, at O’Hara’s Landing Marina.
The meeting’s location — several yards from where the first strand of the pernicious plant was discovered at the marina in May of 2022 and where a large sign now warns boaters of the threat — was a fitting backdrop for the 90-minute coalition meeting focused on managing the aquatic invader.
It is believed that the invasive weed, known as the Connecticut River Hydrilla, was introduced by hitching a ride with an unsuspecting boater.
Coalition partners included scientists and officials from the Connecticut Department of Energy and Environmental Protection (DEEP), the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, local lake associations, town and state officials and other stakeholders.
Three years ago East Twin became the first lake to discover the novel Connecticut River strain of hydrilla in its waters. Since then, it has been identified in 10 additional state lakes.
Coalition member Gregory Bugbee, associate scientist at the Connecticut Agricultural Experiment Station’s Office of Aquatic Invasive Species (CAES/OAIS), reported that an effort to inspect all 84 boat ramps in Connecticut this year yielded only one site where hydrilla was found.
The threat nonetheless has lake associations rattled. Several groups from around the Northwest Corner have turned to the TLA and its coalition for guidance, as hydrilla — once established — is notoriously difficult to eradicate.
Herbicide’s impact
The meeting centered on this past summer’s success as well as collateral damage to a native plant, water marigold, following the TLA’s whole-lake treatment with the herbicide fluoridone.
Domenic Meringolo, environmental engineer and project manager with SOLitude Lake Management, said this summer’s treatment with Sonar, SePRO’s flagship aquatic solution, was more successful than prior spot treatments using the systemic herbicide ProcellaCOR.
While the ProcellaCOR failed to kill hydrilla, it was “beautifully effective” on ridding the lake of Eurasian watermilfoil, said Knoecklein. “It became pretty clear that the whack-a-mole strategy wasn’t going to work” on hydrilla.
The SOLitude project manager noted that the two-to-five parts per billion (ppb) concentration of fluoridone used throughout this summer at East Twin was to selectively control hydrilla while minimally affecting native aquatic plants at low concentration.
While the Sonar destroyed the hydrilla, it had an unintended ecological impact on one of the lake’s native aquatic species, Bidens beckii, commonly known as water marigold. The Bidens is a state protected plant that had been growing profusely in East Twin.
“This year, we couldn’t find it,” reported NEAR’S Knoecklein.
Of the 54 species of aquatic plants documented in East Twin Lake, the Bidens beckii was the only one adversely affected by the treatment, he explained. “We have more of it in Middle Twin, and there’s a very good indication that nothing else was impacted here.”
Knoecklein said he has been in contact with DEEP’s Natural Diversity Database (NDDB) regarding the loss of Bidens beckii.
“It was not completely unexpected, but we’ll be watching very closely next year,” he said. “I am hoping for some recovery.”
A diver is expected to re-inspect the lake this week.
“The hydrilla game has really become both surface visualization and looking for hydrilla in deeper waters,” said Knoecklein. “You can’t combat hydrilla in a lake without using these strategies.”
The TLA limnologist noted that prior dives found both young hydrilla plants and larger established ones.
“My suspicion is that this has been in the lake for four years and turned into a fort during that time, with massive plants six feet tall and lots of shoots. We had to move water lilies to find hydrilla growing under those plants.”
A sign warning boaters of the hydrilla threat at O’Hara’s Landing Marina stands in the location where the invasive weed was discovered at East Twin Lake in May of 2022. Debra A. Aleksinas
Lessons learned, lessons shared
The forum touched on the soaring costs of lake management, a concern to the TLA as well as smaller lake groups with limited funds and resources.
TLA’s annual lake management expenditures have increased tenfold — from about $50,000 per year to as much as $500,000 for the foreseeable future — as the association continues its intensive monitoring, testing, and prevention efforts.
Despite those costs, officials emphasized that East Twin’s experience offers valuable lessons for other lakes confronting hydrilla for the first time or preparing for an invasion.
Representatives from the Lake Wononscopomuc Association and Mt. Riga Inc., in Salisbury, attended the fall coalition meeting, along with officials from Mudge Pond Association in Sharon and Doolittle and Benedict Pond in northeastern Norfolk.
Christina Astrove, lake board president representing Doolittle and Benedict, was a first-time attendee. She was hoping to learn about how the TLA has been dealing with hydrilla and what steps are being taken to control and eradicate the worrisome weed.
While her lake community is private and prohibits motorboats, she is “very concerned” about the looming threat.
“I attended a Connecticut Federation of Lakes meeting this spring and have taken several webinars” on the topic, noted Astrove. “It’s scary.”
Mudge Pond representative Andrew Cahill said his group is bracing for hydrilla’s arrival due to high boat traffic.
“We have everything but hydrilla at this point, but I’m sure we will have it at some point.”
TLA President Grant Bogle said he is pleased to share information from lessons learned. “The goal is not only to support Twin Lakes, but to spread the word. It takes a village, literally, to address this threat.”
TLA officials said they have been fielding calls from lake associations throughout the United States seeking advice and guidance, and they are happy to share.
CAES’ Bugbee praised the Twin Lakes group’s aggressive response to the hydrilla threat, swift creation of its coalition of advisors and for sharing their collective knowledge. “This organization is second to none. It’s almost like a poster child for how things should be done.”
Knoecklein said despite vigilant surveillance of boat ramps and closing lakes off to the public, the hydrilla threat persists.
“In my opinion all possible vectors are on the table,” including recreational fishing and birds flying overhead dropping plant fragments.
Grant Bogle, TLA association president, agreed that “surveillance is key.”
“While we have good news to report in terms of hydrilla, this isn’t over. Forevermore we are going to have to be hyper-vigilant, no matter what happens down the road. It came in once and it could come in again.”
Kathy Reisfeld
On one floor of her barn are yoga mats and the steady rhythm of breath. On the other are computer screens, market charts and conversations about retirement plans and portfolio diversification. For Reisfeld, founder of Berkshire Wealth Group in Great Barrington, these are two sides of a single practice.
“At the end of the day, you’re just dealing with people,” she said. “Whether we’re talking about financial stability or mental stability, it’s kind of all the same thing.”
Reisfeld has spent nearly 30 years in finance, building a client-centered advisory practice that eventually led her to go independent. But her relationship with money began long before her career.
When her mother became ill during Reisfeld’s childhood, finances tightened. It wasn’t poverty, she said, but it was constrained enough to teach her how money — or its lack — can dictate the terms of one’s life. That lesson took on a deeper meaning as she watched her mother remain in a difficult marriage without full financial independence. “Money represented autonomy,” she said. “Freedom.”
In college, Reisfeld initially majored in physics, drawn to systems and structure. But an economics class shifted her direction. Markets, she realized, were systems too — not only mathematical, but deeply human.
After graduating, she landed an internship with a financial adviser and gradually discovered a profession that combined curiosity, problem-solving and relationship-building.
“The more I learned, the more I kind of wanted to get involved,” she said.
Over time, she realized she wasn’t interested in chasing predictions; she was interested in guiding people through uncertainty.
Over nearly three decades, she has watched the industry evolve. It has moved, she believes, from selling products to offering advice — a shift toward aligning compensation with clients’ best interests.
She’s candid about the stereotypes that cling to finance: that it’s driven by greed and full of money-hungry people. Those people exist, she said, but they aren’t the majority.
“It’s kind of like the few bad apples ruining it for everyone.”
At its best, she believes, the work is quieter and more meaningful than its reputation suggests.
Kathy Reisfeld practicing yoga.Elena Spellman
Yoga entered her life in 2001, when she was living in New York City and training as a marathon runner.
“I was, like, very anti-yoga,” she admitted with a laugh.
But once she tried it, something shifted. A workshop with Nancy Gilgoff, the first American woman to travel to India to study Ashtanga yoga, “blew my mind open,” she said, revealing yoga as something far larger than poses or stretching.
What began as a physical complement to her running became a doorway into something deeper.
“Ashtanga means eight limbs,” Reisfeld explained. “The physical practice is just the entry point.”
The overlap she sees between yoga and investing is patience. Both practices demand discipline through fluctuation — the ups and downs, the good days and bad days, and the willingness to keep showing up.
In yoga philosophy, she points to the stilling of the mind. In investing, that becomes tuning out the noise — the headlines that spike fear or euphoria, the endless predictions that feel authoritative and rarely land cleanly.
After almost three decades in a traditionally male-dominated industry, Reisfeld has learned to move comfortably in rooms where she was often one of the few women present.
Asked what it was like starting out as a woman in finance, she smiled.
“The lines for the restroom were shorter.”
The humor reflects her temperament. She began her career at 21, and mentorship was not always easy to find. But finance, like yoga, rewards consistency. Ultimately, she built her business through steady growth.
For Reisfeld, yoga is fundamentally about integration. Money is no exception. It shapes how we live, the choices we make and the freedoms we have. Ignoring it doesn’t make it disappear. It only makes it harder.
Now rooted in the Berkshires, advising clients and teaching yoga classes from the same barn, Reisfeld’s work feels less like two careers and more like one philosophy.
When asked what she hopes people feel after spending time with her — whether reviewing a portfolio or finishing a yoga session — her answer is immediate.
“More confident,” she said. “Less stressed. More optimistic about their future.”
For more information or to book an appointment, visit berkshirewealthgroup.com
Kathy Reisfeld, Branch Owner
250 Maple Ave, Great Barrington, MA 01230
845-263-3996
Securities offered through Raymond James Financial Services, Inc. Member FINRA/SIPC.
Berkshire Wealth Group is not a registered broker/dealer and is independent of Raymond James Financial Services, Inc.
Investment advisory services offered through Raymond James Financial Services Advisors, Inc.
Elena Spellman is a Client Service Associate at Berkshire Wealth Group
Playwright Cinzi Lavin, left, poses with Kathleen Kelly, director of ‘A Goodnight Kiss.’
When Lavin inquired about staging the production there, “they were very excited about it,” she said.
The performance, to take place April 1, is being sponsored by the Connecticut League of Women Voters. Organizers said the Capitol setting offers a fitting backdrop for a story rooted in American history and civic life.
“A Goodnight Kiss” is a dramatic reading drawn from letters exchanged between Sgt. Maj. Frederick Lucas (David Macharelli) and Sarah Jane “Jennie” Wadhams (Olivia Wadsworth). Fred wrote from battlefields, while Jennie wrote from the peaceful confines of Goshen. Together, their letters trace a gradually deepening romance and how the couple overcame objections by Jennie’s father, John Marsh Wadhams, and finally married in 1867.
“I just found it adorable that (Jennie’s father) was going to make sure she got the right kind of husband, which is why Fred had such a hard time,” Kelly said.
BroadwayWorld reviewer Sean Fallon called the play “the most romantic love story I have ever seen acted out on stage.”
The letters were first brought to light in the 2002 book “Fred and Jennie: A Civil War Love Story” by the late Ernest B. Barker, a Goshen resident and descendant of both the Lucas and Wadhams families. The Barker family discovered Fred’s letters in the Wadhams homestead and Jennie’s letters in a house once owned by a Lucas family member. The correspondence is now housed at the Connecticut Museum of Culture and History in Hartford.
Capitol atriumSubmitted by Kathleen Kelly
Kelly said presenting the story through letters poses a challenge because the actors rarely interact onstage. During rehearsals, she had the performers face one another while reading their letters aloud. “It was just like magic happened,” she said.
Lavin said the play “tells the story of what truly makes America great, what made America great then, and what still makes it great, which is devotion to duty, service to others, integrity and treasuring freedom.”
David Macharelli, who portrays Fred, said, “Charting (Fred’s) course from enthusiastic young recruit gushing with admiration for the new technology of 19th-century warfare to a man crashing into the reality of war is a reminder that even the noblest of causes demand sacrifice, and that sacrifice is often borne by innocents.”
Olivia Wadsworth said of portraying Jennie, “It’s actually a little dizzying to think about. Two people, more than a hundred years ago, sent private letters to one another, and now their love story is being shared in a performance at the state Capitol.”
The performance will take place April 1 at 2 p.m. in Room 310 of the Capitol at 210 Capitol Ave., Hartford. The event is free and open to the public with advance registration at https://bit.ly/4usa9b7. Arrangements for guests with special requirements may be made by emailing Lisa Del Sesto at admin@lwvct.org or calling 203-288-7996. Parking on Capitol grounds is limited, but additional parking is available nearby at the Legislative Office Building, 300 Capitol Ave.
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Yonah Sadeh, Falls Village filmmaker and curator of David M. Hunt Library’s new VideoWall.
After the screening of the two films, “Mail Myself to You” and “Circle, Circle Square,” Pranger and Sadeh will discuss filmmaking and answer questions.
Of Pranger, Sadeh said, “She has a strong visual voice as a director, and both of these films are great examples of a blend of documentary and experimental filmmaking.”
Imogen Pranger, first filmmaker of the new VideoWall.Provided
Pranger described her approach to filmmaking. “I have always approached the visual arts from an interdisciplinary, multimedia perspective.” This approach was a reason why animation was particularly appealing to Pranger as she began exploring the possibilities of filmmaking.
“I particularly fell in love with the tactility of hand-drawn and painted animation and the ways in which it can be used in tandem with analog 16-millimeter film. Stop-motion animation holds the unique power to bring inanimate objects to life, something that became crucial to my practice of archival documentary filmmaking. I appreciate the sense of play that is encouraged in the medium of animation and find great joy in exploring new avenues and possibilities within the medium,” she continued.
At the core of Pranger’s films, she hopes to capture the joy and intimacy of human connection that blossoms through engagement with material and creative process.
After the opening event, the films will remain available to view at any time on the VideoWall screen in the library stacks. “The screen will always be on and ready for anyone to use,” Sadeh said. The installations will last three to four months.
Sadeh added, “Each installation will begin with a public screening at the library, followed by a talkback with the filmmaker.”
Filmmakers can contact Sadeh at huntartwall@gmail.com for information about submitting films for consideration. Visit huntlibrary.org/art-wall for a schedule of ArtWall and VideoWall events, which are free and open to the public.
A bowl full of stones.
They’re not specimens. I’m not a scientist comparing igneous with sedimentary, or metamorphic with minerals or meteorites. I don’t know slate from quartzite, or schist from basalt or gabbro. They aren’t memories either, because I can’t tell by looking at them where they’re from. They sit quietly beside me in whatever moment I’m occupying.
They’re not souvenirs from places, like coffee mugs or snow globes. They are the places themselves.
The planet has reorganized itself in my bowl. Melbourne nestles next to the Hebrides. The streets of Roma in Mexico City rub elbows with Vatican City, Rome. Eastern Tibet sits on top of Machu Picchu; New Delhi is now close to Detroit. Cappadocia has finally met Capri. Mustique knows Morocco, and they both lie on the beaches of southern France.
These stones have witnessed the fall of civilizations, the birth and death of infinite beings, tectonic upheavals and the creative destruction of fire and ice.
Who touched them before me? Inca, Maya, Trojans? Warriors, slaves or yaks? Blue-footed boobies in the Galápagos or a slithering Costa Rican fer-de-lance? Was one of them used to stone a blasphemer in ancient Greece?
It’s not as if the place where I live needs more stones. In New England we’ve been blessed with an imposing population of glacial erratics — characters dragged here by the last Ice Age and left to sit silently in the woods for the past 16,000 years. The stones themselves, I’ve learned, are more than a billion years old.
The most ancient rocks known to us are more than four billion years old. Others are practically new, formed continually as tectonic plates shift along seabeds or lava cools along volcanic slopes. And while individual rocks vary wildly in age, the substance of rocks — atoms of silicon, oxygen and iron —is far older than the Earth itself, forged in ancient stars before our Milky Way existed.
Perhaps my bowl is filled with stars.
I recently stood before an exhibit of Aboriginal art called “The Stars We Do Not See.”The artists are descendants of the oldest continuous civilization on Earth, at 350,000 years. Their past is not distant or inaccessible to them; they understand time as a cycle and live in relationship with everything on earth and sky, including stones.
The title of the show was inspired by the late Yolŋu artist Gulumbu Yunupingu, who painted the night sky on bark. She spoke about the “stars behind the stars” — all there is to learn and appreciate beyond what we can see.
Deep in the woods on the hill above our house in Norfolk sits a giant marshmallow-shaped rock, one of the billion-year-old ones. At some point, someone leaned a ladder against it — a standing invitation to a new perspective.
How can we know the things that are invisible, the stars behind the stars? How can we feel connected to what came before us and sits silently around us, too slow for our impatient eyes to see?
A rock with a ladder.Cheryl Heller
Every once in a while, someone leans a ladder against a rock so we can’t miss it. Most of the time, we’re on our own.
I sometimes joke with my younger sister that when I die, she and our nieces can divide up whatever I leave behind, including the handbag she has had her eye on for years. But who will see and care about a bowl of rocks too heavy to lift and too silent about their value to be appreciated?
This is for you, Lynn, Stacey, Katie and Rose.
I hope you keep the planet in my bowl together.
It might be, after all, my small and only lasting intervention in the world.
Cheryl Heller is a designer, educator and business strategist who pioneered the field of social design and founded the first social design MFA program at the School of Visual Arts. She lives in Norfolk.
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