
The author planted this Yellowwood tree a few years ago on some of his open space.
Fritz Mueller
The author planted this Yellowwood tree a few years ago on some of his open space.
As an inveterate collector of all possibly winter hardy East coast native shrubs and trees, I take a rather expansive view of the term “native”; anything goes as long as it grows along the East coast. After I killed those impenetrable thickets of Asiatic invasive shrubs and vines which surrounded our property, I suddenly found myself with plenty of open planting space.
That’s when, a few years ago, I also planted a Yellowwood tree, (Cladastris kentukea). It is a rare, medium-sized tree in the legume family—spectacular when in bloom and golden yellow in fall. In the wild, it has a very disjointed distribution in southeastern states, yet a large specimen, obviously once part of a long-gone garden, has now become part of the woods bordering Route 4 on its highest point between Sharon and Cornwall.
It has always intrigued me that so many species, whose native ranges today are much further south, grow so well here. Besides Yellowwood, that includes, for example, the Bald Cypress (Taxodium distichum) of southern swamps whose natural range reaches into southern New Jersey. However, it also grows in Litchfield hills gardens and, incongruously, even as a street tree in New York. Among others are PawPaw (Asimia triloba), Carolina silverbell (Halesia carolina), American snowbell (Styrax americanus), Redbud (Cercis canadensis), and Sourwood (Oxydendron arboreum), a good-sized tree with white flowering racemes and outstanding brilliant, deep red fall foliage. Besides our local swamp and Pinxter azaleas, others that are very hardy here include the early-flowering Pinkshell azalea (Rhododendron vaseyi) of the North Carolina mountains and from the mountains of Georgia, the rare-in-the-wild, July-flowering Plumleaf azalea, (R. prunifolium). Robust and larger in habit and most stunning of all is the Flame azalea (R. calendulaceum), which historically grew as far north as southeast New York, where it is now extirpated.
After some research, I learned that Cladastris kentukea might have grown over a much wider and more northern area, but during the last glaciation episode, it survived in the wild only in those isolated southern locations. That it survived at all so close to the glaciers edge is in itself an indication of cold hardiness. It is estimated, based on fossil plant and pollen records, that with the retreat of the icecap around 16,000 years ago, trees migrated again northward at a rate of approximately 50 km per century. This may apply to prolific sprouters such as maples, ashes and oaks, but it could be much slower, I suspect, for the many rarer plants which don’t get around by wind, squirrels, and birds, or are—unlike our common trees—finnicky to sprout from seeds. I can also imagine how many of the rarer trees and shrubs, for example Fringetree (Chionanthus virginicus), became collateral damage during the 19th century clearcutting for charcoal and farming. In any case, Yellowwood didn’t manage to recolonize its former range, and a similar scenario may apply to those other woody plants with a more southerly distribution today but that are perfectly hardy up here.
Climate change, which used to occur over millennia, now seems to happen within half a century. Birds, like the Carolina wren, can adapt quickly and become abundant after just a few warm winters—but plants are stuck. They need help to keep up with such rapid change. In the case of trees and shrubs, human gardeners can assist them in expanding their ranges into areas that are now warm enough for them to live thrive again.
I bought a sapling Water tupelo (Nyssa aquatica), native to southern swamps, from a Missouri nursery. It has survived two winters so far—albeit quite mild ones—in a woody swamp here at 1100ft elevation. One hundred years from now, who knows—ugar maples, which thrive in cold, snowy winters, might be replaced with sweetgum (Liquidambar styraciflua), a more southern hardwood.
I found space for trees by clearing thickets of invasives. The modern trend of transforming excessively large lawns into natural meadows also provides an opportunity to plant native trees with an understory of shrubs and ferns, whether as a stand-alone copse or a forest edge. This is not meant to replace flowers and grasses but to complement them, based on the understanding that, in our region, the primary ecosystem is forest—an exceptionally species-rich one to boot, with over a half dozen oaks alone.
Compared to watching grass grow, watching a tree—any tree—grow is almost exciting, given a bit of patience. Early on, protection against deer is necessary, but later, maintenance is relatively minimal; the leaves can simply fall and stay where they may.
Fritz Mueller lives in Sharon.
SHARON — Angela Derrick Carabine, 74, died May 16, 2025, at Vassar Hospital in Poughkeepsie, New York. She was the wife of Michael Carabine and mother of Caitlin Carabine McLean.
A funeral Mass will be celebrated on June 6 at 11:00 a.m. at Saint Katri (St Bernards Church) Church. Burial will follow at St. Bernards Cemetery. A complete obituary can be found on the website of the Kenny Funeral home kennyfuneralhomes.com.
Sam Waterston
On June 7 at 3 p.m., the Triplex Cinema in Great Barrington will host a benefit screening of “The Killing Fields,” Roland Joffé’s 1984 drama about the Khmer Rouge and the two journalists, Cambodian Dith Pran and New York Times correspondent Sydney Schanberg, whose story carried the weight of a nation’s tragedy.
The film, which earned three Academy Awards and seven nominations — including one for Best Actor for Sam Waterston — will be followed by a rare conversation between Waterston and his longtime collaborator and acclaimed television and theater director Matthew Penn.
“This came out of the blue,” Waterston said of the Triplex invitation, “but I love the town, I love this area. We raised our kids here in the Northwest Corner and it’s been good for them and good for us.”
Waterston hasn’t seen the film in decades but its impact has always remained present.
“It was a major event in my life at the time,” Waterston said of filming “The Killing Fields,” “and it had a big influence on me and my life ever after.” He remembers the shoot vividly. “My adrenaline was running high and the part of Sydney Schanberg was so complicated, so interesting.”
Waterston lobbied for the role of the Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist for years, tracing his early interest to a serendipitous connection while filming in England. Even before Joffé’s production was greenlit, he had his sights set on playing the role. “I knew I wanted the part for years even before it was a movie that was being produced.”
What followed was not just critical acclaim, but also a political awakening. “The film gave all of us an intimate acquaintance with refugees, what it is to be a refugee, how the world forgets them and what a terrible crime that is.”
In Boston, at a press stop for the film, two women asked Waterston a pointed question: now that he knew what he knew, what was he going to do about it? “I said, ‘Well, you know, I’m an actor, so I thought I’d go on acting.’ And they said, ‘No, that’s not what you need to do. You need to join Refugees International.’” And join he did, serving on the organization’s board for 25 years.
Both Schanberg and Dith Pran, whose life the film also chronicles, were “cooperative and helpful … in a million ways,” Waterston said. Upon first meeting Pran, Waterston recalled, “He came up to me, made a fist, and pounded on my chest really hard and said, ‘You must understand that Sydney is very strong here.’ He was trying to plant something in me.”
There were more tender gestures, too. Schanberg used the New York Times wire to relay that Waterston’s wife had just given birth while he was filming in Thailand, adding to the personal and emotional connection to the production.
Though “The Killing Fields” is a historical document, its truths still resonate deeply today. “Corruption is a real thing,” Waterston warned. “Journalism is an absolutely essential part of our democracy that is as under siege today as it was then. It’s different now but it’s the same thing of ‘Don’t tell the stories we don’t want heard.’ Without journalists, we are dust in the wind.” Waterston added, “Democracy is built on the consent of the governed but the other thing it’s built on is participation of the governed and without full participation, democracy really doesn’t stand much of a chance. It’s kind of a dead man walking.”
When asked what he hopes the audience will take away from the screening, Waterston didn’t hesitate. “This is the story that puts the victims of war at the center of the story and breaks your heart. I think that does people a world of good to have their hearts broken about something that’s true. So, I hope that’s what the impact will be now.”
Tickets for the benefit screening are available at www.thetriplex.org. Proceeds support Triplex Cinema, a nonprofit home for film and community programming in the Berkshires.
Scott Reinhard, graphic designer, cartographer, former Graphics Editor at the New York Times, took time out from setting up his show “Here, Here, Here, Here- Maps as Art” to explain his process of working.Here he explains one of the “Heres”, the Hunt Library’s location on earth (the orange dot below his hand).
Map lovers know that as well as providing the vital functions of location and guidance, maps can also be works of art.With an exhibition titled “Here, Here, Here, Here — Maps as Art,” Scott Reinhard, graphic designer and cartographer, shows this to be true. The exhibition opens on June 7 at the David M. Hunt Library at 63 Main St., Falls Village, and will be the first solo exhibition for Reinhard.
Reinhard explained how he came to be a mapmaker. “Mapping as a part of my career was somewhat unexpected.I took an introduction to geographic information systems (GIS), the technological side of mapmaking, when I was in graduate school for graphic design at North Carolina State.GIS opened up a whole new world, new tools, and data as a medium to play with.”
He added, “When I moved to New York City, I continued that exploration of cartography, and my work eventually caught the attention of the New York Times, where I went to work as a Graphics Editor, making maps and data visualizations for a number of years.”At the New York Times, his work contributed to a number of Pulitzer Prize winning efforts.
In his work, Reinhard takes complex data and turns it into intriguing visualizations the viewer can begin to comprehend immediately and will want to continue to look into and explore more deeply.
One method Reinhard uses combines historic United States Geological survey maps with “current elevation data (height above sea level for a point on earth) to create 3-D looking maps, combining old and new,” he explained.
For the show at Hunt Library Reinhard said, “I knew that I wanted to incorporate the place into the show itself. A place can be many things.The exhibition portrays the exact spot visitors are from four vantage points: the solar system, the earth, the Northwest Corner, and the library itself.” Hence the name, “Here, Here, Here, Here.”
He continued, “The largest installation, the Northwest Corner, is a mosaic of high-resolution color prints and hand-printed cyanotypes — one of the earliest forms of photography. They use elevation data to portray the landscape in a variety of ways, from highly abstract to the highly detailed.”
This sixteen-foot-wide installation covers the area of Millerton to Barkhamsted Reservoir and from North Canaan down to Cornwall for a total of about 445 square miles.
For subjects, he chooses places he’s visited and feels deeply connected to, like the Northwest Corner.“This show is a thank you to the community for the richness that it has brought to my life. I love it here,” he said.
The opening reception for the show is on June 7 from 5 to 7 p.m. On Thursday, June 12, Reinhard will give a talk about his work from 5:30 to 7 p.m. at the library.“Here, Here, Here, Here” will be on display until July 3.
Scott Reinhard’s 16-foot-wide piece of the Northwest Corner is laid out on the floor prior to being hung for the show. L. Tomaino