Getting the upper hand on mighty phragmites

Phragmites australis australis in North Canaan.
John Coston

Phragmites australis australis in North Canaan.
Finally rain. For weeks, the only place there had been moisture was in the marsh and even there, areas that usually catch my boots in the mud were dry. I could not see the footprints of the bear (or is it deer?) that have been digging up and eating the underground skunk cabbage flowers. Not that I could do anything to stop it. A layer of snow that actually sticks around for a while seems like wishful thinking these days.
Masses of skunk cabbage, Symplocarpus foetidus, appeared one spring, like magic, after we hired a team to remove the barberry from about an acre of the marsh adjacent to the driveway. Of course, it had been there all along, waiting patiently underground or hiding in the barberry’s thorny shrub-cages, but we had not seen it. That was about eight years ago; after the barberry’s removal there have been successive infestations of invasives but also, as with the skunk cabbage, some welcome new sightings of native plants.
I wrote in this column last year about Japanese stiltgrass, Microstegium vimineum, and the success in using the weed torch on a large patch of it in the marsh. It remained largely free of this annual invasive grass this year but we switched to hand weeding the area as, given the dry weather, we could not use the torch even in the marsh. Over the course of three weeks, we pulled out what amounted to 6 trash bins stuffed solid with the hairlike strands. As many of them have seedheads we will burn them once the ban is lifted. I should have paid attention to the stiltgrass infestation earlier in the season but walking near Route 7 is not the most peaceful thing to do so I tend to avoid it.
Twice a year I make my way into the marsh as far as I can go until halted by barberry and multiflora rose to hold at bay another grass, this one a giant compared to stiltgrass. Phragmites australis is a tall reed with a pouf of a seed head that is abundant in moist and wet areas everywhere in the US. It is so aggressive in wetlands that it quickly becomes a monoculture- a sea of swaying beige. It not only crowds out other plants but changes the pH of the surrounding soil and water so nothing native can grow in it. It is a real habitat killer. Drive on route 41 toward Sharon from Hotchkiss school and you will see a large field of phragmites on the left-hand side of the road. Once identified you cannot unsee how it has hijacked our landscape.
Thanks to my gardener’s help cutting down barberry, multiflora rose and honeysuckle in the marsh last winter, this year my access was greatly improved to a stand of phragmites-about a third of an acre of it. With each visit I cut down as much of it as I could to eliminate the possibility for it to grow a seed head. Though loathe to use an herbicide, last year I experimented on a small area, dabbing the cut ends with a wetlands ‘safe’ herbicide. (No herbicide is really safe for the environment but often the chemicals that are added to the herbicide to help it penetrate the leaves are especially damaging.) That application seemed to work so I may repeat it next year on another area.
With all invasives, getting rid of them when you see a first few pop up will pay off. That is what is happening on Cream Hill Road in Cornwall where a small stand of phragmites was recently cut under the water line, a natural technique that attempts to ‘drown’ the plant. The next step will be to cover with a black tarp any remaining phragmites that come back from this first effort. According to Heidi Cunnick, who chairs the Cornwall Conservation Commission, their new policy prioritizes the invasive plants for removal so that small infestations can be eliminated early. Cunnick reminds me that there is a biological control for phragmites that remains under review by a US government department but the future possibility of such an eradication method is not stopping activities to reduce populations- now - in Cornwall.
Another example of successful eradication comes from the Twin Lakes area; a couple who moved to a property that came with a quarter-acre of phragmites colonizing in and around their pond. They valiantly did the work themselves as they could not find anyone who would do it for them. A cut and tarp method was used here for the on-land plants; the ones underwater were cut a foot below the water surface over several years. While most is gone, the battle continues with stragglers; these are tackled with aquatic use herbicide using a dabber on the cut end of a stem or sprayed on a glove that is rubbed over the green stem.
It is hard to stay positive; the work can be hard and tiresome. And it is always a gamble that the area you are working on will grow in with native plants rather than with more invasives. Sometimes you clear a patch of barberry and it gets filled with stiltgrass; you try again. Sometimes you get a patch of goldenrod- nice to have but you don’t want it crowding out the other native plants. And sometimes you get a big reward- the discovery of natives so new to you that you can’t identify them without an app on your phone. In the marsh, where I worked as the weather turned cooler, I noticed quite a few new grasses popping out of the damp soil, especially where the weed torch had been used the prior year. So far, I have identified: Carex albursina, White bear sedge; Carex pedunculata, Longstalk sedge; Carex obnupta, Slough sedge; Carex pennsyvanica, Pennsylvania sedge; Carex frankii, Frank’s sedge; Carex blanda, Eastern woodland sedge; Carex eburnean, Bristleleaf sedge; Danthonia spicata, Poverty oatgrass; Deschampsia cespitosa, Tufted hairgrass; Glyceria striata, Fowl mannagrass and Leersia virginica, Whitegrass. The deer have already helped themselves to a few of these but I am hopeful to see most of them again.
Dee Salomon ‘ungardens’ in Litchfield County.
Elena Spellman
Dan Baker, left, and Daniel Latzman at Barrington Hall in Great Barrington.
Barrington Hall in Great Barrington has hosted generations of weddings, proms and community gatherings. When Dan Baker and Daniel Latzman took over the venue last summer, they stepped into that history with a plan not just to preserve it, but to reshape how the space serves the community today.
Barrington Hall is designed for gathering, for shared experience, for the simple act of being together. At a time when connection is often filtered through screens and distraction, their vision is grounded in something simple and increasingly rare: real human connection.
The partnership behind Barrington Hall began long before the building itself. Both Baker and Latzman grew up on Long Island, spent more than a decade in New York City, and eventually found their way to the Berkshires, drawn by the desire for something different. What they didn’t realize at first was just how closely their lives had already mirrored one another.
They were born in the same hospital, a year apart. Their families had distant connections. They even played on the same soccer team — never meeting, but moving through the same spaces. It wasn’t until they became neighbors in Egremont about five years ago that those parallels came into focus.
“In hindsight, it feels inevitable,” Latzman said. “But it was actually extremely random that we ended up here.”
From the beginning, Barrington Hall was meant to be a place people return to, not for any one event, but for the experience of being there. On any given week, the space might host a jazz performance, a dance party, a songwriter circle or a children’s event. Some nights bring in touring acts. Others highlight local creatives. The variety is intentional and so is the atmosphere.
“It’s about people,” Baker said. “It’s about being present.”

Baker and Latzman are keenly aware of the world outside with its constant barrage of information, political conflicts, a culture that pulls people deeper into their screens. Barrington Hall offers a way out of that noise.
“A little bit of a bubble,” Latzman said. “A place to step away from everything else.”
During a recent event, they noticed something telling: a full room of people dancing, talking, engaged — and almost no one on their phone.
“That’s when you know something is working,” Baker said.
Taking over a beloved local space comes with responsibility, one Baker and Latzman have met by honoring the building’s traditions while also expanding them.
“We didn’t feel obligated,” Latzman said. “We felt honored.”
Part of what makes the space distinct is its versatility. Large enough to host more than 250 people, yet intimate enough to feel personal, it fills a gap in the local landscape, serving a wide range of people and bringing different groups together in the same space.
“We want people to feel like, if something’s happening here, it’s worth checking out,” Latzman said.
They are carefully balancing community access with the realities of running a business, with an eye toward the long term.
“We want this to be here in 20 years,” Latzman said.

That vision extends beyond the building itself — future collaborations, expanded programming, a growing role in shaping the cultural life of the Berkshires. But at its core, the mission remains simple: to create a place where people can gather, a place that feels alive.
And perhaps most importantly, to create a place where, if only for a few hours, people can step away from the noise of the world and enjoy being together.
When asked who they’re most excited to host next, their answer was immediate: The Mammals on April 10 and Lee Ross, a one-man party band from Massachusetts, scheduled to perform on May 1.
For more information and tickets, visit
barringtonhallgb.com
Natalia Zukerman
Gail Rothschild with her painting “Dead Sea Linen III (73 x 58 inches, 2024, acrylic on canvas.
There is a moment, looking at a painting by Gail Rothschild, when you realize you are not looking at a painting so much as a map of time. Threads become brushstrokes; fragments become fields of color; something once held in the hand becomes something you stand in front of, both still and in a constant process of changing.
“Textiles connect people,” Rothschild said. “Textiles are something that we’re all intimately involved with, but we take it for granted.”
Her work begins, often, with something small: a scrap of linen from the Judean desert, dating “to a time before the notion of ‘Israel’ or ‘Palestine;’” a fragment so diminished it barely registers as an object; or a rare indigo-dyed child’s head cloth from Tutankhamen’s tomb.
“I call them portraits of ancient linen,” she said.
Rothschild grew up in Greenwich and studied drawing and painting at Yale University. “That was kind of my first love,” she said. But she quickly veered toward something more collective, working with Peter Schumann at the Bread and Puppet Theater, building papier-mâché puppets and participating in a kind of performance-based activism that blurred art and politics.
“After Yale, I got out of school and thought‘Wait a second. I don’t want to paint anymore. I need to work with people in communities and make things.’”
She moved to Brooklyn and began working in public schools, developing projects rooted in collaboration and local history. The projects were ambitious, research-driven, and often confrontational. At the University of Massachusetts, she recalled asking students: “Did you know that Amherst was named for Jeffrey Amherst, who was responsible for giving blankets infected with smallpox to Native Americans? Why don’t we look into that?’”
There were sculptures, letters to watchdog groups, installations. She worked on four such projects a year, she said, until the pace became unsustainable. “At some point I just said, ‘I’m exhausted. I’m going back to the studio.’”
What brought her back was a book, “Prehistoric Textiles ” by Elizabeth Wayland Barber. Inside, she encountered an image of a 7,000-year-old textile, unraveling.
“It said to me, ‘this could be a great big abstract painting’,” she said. “What does it mean that this textile, this thing that used to be a Cartesian grid and over time has gone back to nature?”
That question became a kind of axis for her work. “There is this cusp between nature and culture,” she said. Early on, she avoided textiles with imagery, drawn instead to the raw language of fiber itself. But eventually, even that boundary softened. A project with the Godwin-Ternbach Museum introduced her to Egyptian textiles — Christian, pagan, Greek, Roman influences colliding in woven form.

What followed was a deepening relationship with museums and, crucially, with conservators. Institutions like The Metropolitan Museum of Art and collections in Berlin and Paris began sending her images of textile fragments, sometimes pieces she has still never seen in person.
“It’s almost easier for me to transform it when I haven’t seen it,” she said.
Her process is both precise and intuitive. She grids the canvas and the source image, drawing freehand to “honor what the object is.” For a time, she works closely from the photograph. Then something shifts. “At some point I’ll say, ‘It’s a painting. It’s got to talk to itself,’ and then I stop looking at the photograph.”
What emerges is layered, luminous and muscular. “Sometimes people say, ‘Do you miss making sculpture?’ and I say, ‘I never stopped.’”
You feel that in the surfaces: the tension of threads pulling apart, the sense that something is both forming and dissolving at once. Even the backgrounds — often ambiguous, atmospheric — are not neutral. “It’s really more about feeling the space around the object,” she said, especially as she considers how ancient fragments are mounted on modern fabrics. “I get to invent an entirely other language.”
Some of her most arresting work is on the monumental textiles of The Met Cloisters, where medieval tapestries, some towering more than a dozen feet, are slowly, painstakingly conserved. It’s in the conservation labs that Rothschild has observed the physical reality of these works: their own weight pulling them apart, threads breaking under centuries of strain. Conservators insert new threads to stabilize them and Rothschild documents this process. “There’s a kind of poignancy to their work,” Rothschild said, “because as hard as we work to conserve the objects of our past, in the greater cosmic scheme of time, it’s only temporary. There’s something beautiful about that.”
Time operates on multiple levels in Rothschild’s work. There is the time of the object —thousands of years, in some cases — and the time of the painting, which unfolds over months. “Once I start working on something, I can’t stop,” she said. “But then it’ll rest for a while and I may change it, add layers.”
And then there is the time of attention itself, the way looking can tip into obsession, into pattern-seeking that doesn’t quite turn off. Rothschild is aware of that edge.
“I have to make myself stop or I just see patterns everywhere and I can’t stop, really,” she laughed. “That’s why I’ve built in other things I need to do in my life like take the dogs for a hike or, you know, volunteer at the Sharon Land Trust… otherwise I go a little nuts. And it wouldn’t be good painting either.”
A painting session, for her, has its own its own arc. “There’s kind of a trajectory for every work session. I might be repeating something and suddenly it looks linear. The language I started painting with may change by the end and I think, ‘Oh God, I’m gonna have to go back and repaint that.’”
But then, she said, there is a pause.
“I kind of step back and say, ‘No, this painting can hold both. That’s part of its history. There’s the history of the object but then there’s the history of the painting.’”
Richard Feiner And Annette Stover
Cast of “Laughter on the 23rd Floor” from left to right. Tara Vega, Steve Zerilli, Bob Cady (Standing) Seated at the table: Andrew Blanchard, Jon Barker, Colin McLoone, Chris Bird, Rebecca Annalise, Adam Battlestein
For a century, the Sherman Players have turned a former 19th-century church into a stage where neighbors become castmates, volunteers power productions and community is the main attraction. The company marks its 100th season with a lineup that blends classic works, new writing and homegrown talent.
New England has a long history of community theater and its role in strengthening civic life. The Sherman Players remain a vital example, mounting intimate, noncommercial productions that draw on local participation and speak to the current cultural moment.
Sherman Players President Missy Alexander is an enthusiastic champion of the group’s history and collaborative spirit, which engages amateurs and professionals alike “to see what fun we can have” in bringing theater to all audiences. Everyone pitches in — from sets and costumes to administrative work — to bring each production to life. She calls it the “extra special sparkle” that has defined the company since its first performances in their historic church home in 1926.
The season opens in April with Neil Simon’s “Laughter on the 23rd Floor,” a comedy set in the 1950s television writers’ room during the McCarthy era. In June, the company will present a production (with live music) of the classic Broadway musical “Bye, Bye Birdie!” one of the first shows that highlighted the Baby Boomer generation and our “Kids are King” culture.
In July, The Sherman Players will debut “Restored to Reason,” a new work by local writer Elizabeth Young about Mary Todd Lincoln. Developed through the theater’s Cold Lemonade reading series, the work marks the first time the company has taken a piece from staged reading to full production, a memorable milestone in the group’s historic mission.
September brings a timely revival of the historic American courtroom drama, “Inherit the Wind.” The Sherman Players last presented this riveting account of the infamous Scopes “monkey trial” in 1966. The season concludes with a special holiday presentation of “An American Christmas Carol,” an original adaptation of the Dickens classic, written by Artistic Director Robin Frome, directed by Jane Farnol.
Alexander is quick to acknowledge that The Sherman Players is committed to supporting the broader regional arts community. “We’re closer than you think, and we all draw on the same talents and resources,” she said. “We all see and support each other’s work.”
This dedication is helping to enrich the theater-going experience for everyone, from long-established generational Sherman Players patrons to new, younger audiences looking for community connection.
The Sherman Playhouse is located at 5 Route 39 N, Sherman, Connecticut. For tickets, subscriptions and more information, visit shermanplayers.org.

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Graham Corrigan
Stage director Geoffrey Larson signs autographs for some of the kids after a family performance.
For those curious about opera but unsure where to begin, the Mahaiwe Theater in Great Barrington will offer an accessible entry point with “Once Upon an Opera,” a free, family-friendly program on Sunday, April 12, at 2 p.m. The event is designed for opera newcomers and aficionados alike and will include selections from some of opera’s most beloved works.
Luca Antonucci, artistic coordinator, assistant conductor and chorus master for the Berkshire Opera Festival, said the idea first materialized three years ago.
“This production is one of the highlights of the off-season,” he said.
“Opera is all about telling stories through music, which makes the concert a hit with people of all ages,” he added. “Every story has something to tell us about the human experience.” He pointed to the range of material covered in the program. “From the beautiful ornamentation of Baroque operas to the majesty of Mozart, to the gripping emotions of Verdi and Puccini … up to the modern-day stories of today’s operas by composers like Huang Ruo, Missy Mazzoli and so many others.”
The event features three singers from the Berkshire Opera Festival: soprano Juliet Schlefer, mezzo-soprano Abbegael Greene and tenor Maximillian Jansen. All three are still early in their careers, a class of rising vocal talent carrying the torch for the next generation. They will be accompanied by pianist Charles Tsui.
“I think that opera is especially exciting for families and young children precisely because it is all about storytelling,” Antonucci said. “Adding costumes, sets, props and the incredible power of operatic voices to the mix makes it one of the few types of experiences where all the arts come together.”
This year, the production reimagines some of those legendary stories in present-day Massachusetts. As always, “Once Upon an Opera” promises to be an interactive affair, encouraging audience participation throughout its hourlong runtime. While the event is free, reservations are encouraged due to limited seating.
Tickets are available at berkshireoperafestival.org/onceuponanopera.
Natalia Zukerman
Aerial view of The Shed at Tanglewood in Lenox, Massachusetts.
The Boston Symphony Orchestra is outlining its path forward following the announcement that music director Andris Nelsons will step down after the 2027 Tanglewood season, closing a 13-year tenure.
In a letter to supporters, the BSO’s Board of Trustees acknowledged that the news has been difficult for many in its community, while emphasizing gratitude for Nelsons’ leadership and plans to celebrate his final season.
The orchestra also pointed to broader challenges facing the institution and the field at large. Attendance has declined over the past two decades, while operating costs have risen. The BSO has relied on more than $100 million in reserve funds beyond standard endowment draws to cover ongoing deficits, and key facilities — including venues at Tanglewood — require significant upgrades.
In response, the organization is advancing a long-term strategy centered on three priorities: programming, partnerships and place. Plans include rethinking how concerts reach contemporary audiences, strengthening ties across Boston and the Berkshires, and investing in major performance spaces such as Symphony Hall and Tanglewood.
The board emphasized that while the BSO remains committed to artistic excellence and its core repertoire, adapting to changing audience habits will be critical to its sustainability. Leaders say ongoing conversations with musicians, staff and community partners have helped shape the new direction.
Despite financial pressures and leadership changes, trustees expressed confidence in the orchestra’s future, underscoring the role of audiences, donors and artists in sustaining one of the country’s oldest cultural institutions.
Leila Hawken
Roasted lamb
Preparing lamb for the observance of Easter is a long-standing tradition in many cultures, symbolizing new life and purity. For Christians, Easter marks the end of Lenten fasting, allowing for a celebratory feast. A popular choice is roast lamb, often prepared with rosemary, garlic or lemon. It is traditional to serve mint sauce or mint jelly at the table.
The Hebrew Bible suggests that the last plague God inflicted on the Egyptians, to secure the Israelites’ release from slavery, was to kill the firstborn son in every Egyptian home. To differentiate the Israelites from the Egyptians, God instructed them to mark their doorposts with the blood of a lamb. Today, Jews, Christians and Muslims generally believe that God would have known who was Israelite and who was Egyptian without such a sign, but views of God’s omnipotence in the Abrahamic faiths have evolved over the millennia.
This tradition, celebrated at Passover, has made lamb a first choice for Jewish families commemorating freedom from Egyptian slavery. Christians have continued the tradition, naming Jesus the Lamb of God, whose death serves as atonement for the sins of the world. For them, the dietary restrictions of Lent have ended, allowing a return to eggs, sweets and meat.
2 or more cloves garlic, thinly sliced
Good-quality olive oil
Rosemary
Salt and pepper to taste
Preheat oven to 450 degrees. Trim fat from lamb as desired. Using a sharp knife, cut small gashes in the meat and insert a slice of garlic into each cut. Rub the roast with olive oil, then season with rosemary (some cooks also add thyme), salt and pepper.
Place the meat on a rack in a shallow roasting pan and put it in the preheated oven. After 15 minutes, reduce heat to 350 degrees. Roast for 25 minutes per pound for rare or 30 minutes per pound for well-done. Well-done lamb will be less juicy and less tender. If garlic is not desired, substitute lemon or additional rosemary.
When the roast is done, carve by slicing parallel to the bone, rotating as needed.
Variations: Some recipes substitute lemon juice for olive oil. You may also use salad oil instead of olive oil and add a bit of powdered ginger, a bay leaf, sage and marjoram. Soy sauce is also used.
To make gravy:
After removing the roast to rest, place the roasting pan on the stovetop over heat. Add flour and stir for one minute, until a paste forms. Add beef stock or water to reach the desired consistency. Mash any garlic pieces, if used, to enhance flavor. Strain and serve.

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