Six months ago I would have been able to tell you the latin names of maybe twenty different plants, usually only when they were in flower, and correctly identifying them would probably take a few tries. I didn’t know any coastal or salt marsh species, sedges and grasses were out of the question, my botanic vocabulary was very limited. Floras and dichotomous keys were intimidating books to only be touched if you wanted to induce a headache. I had only been camping two times. And I had definitely never collected seeds.

However yesterday, I was able to look at a list of 305 latin names of the species we collected from, and know which of these collections would be appropriate for a project manager to use at their dam removal and freshwater stream restoration site. I am probably able to identify a few hundred species on the spot, and can easily figure out a few hundred more using floras and keys. I realized a few months ago that I can look at a tray of seeds and identify what plant it came from.

We’ve traveled over 10,000 miles up and down the five coastal New England states, made over 300 collections (our goal was 200), and collected from up to 13 different species in one day. I’ve witnessed the breathtaking panoramic view from the tops of the Parker River sand dunes on Plum Island, the vast Atlantic spreading out beyond the horizon on the East, and miles upon miles of pristine salt marsh teeming with life on the West. I’ve been unexpectedly sucked knee-deep into mud more times than I can count (but managed to bring my boots back to the surface every time!). I’ve bounced through trampolines of sphagnum bogs, tip-toeing around rare plants that non-botanist eyes would never have noticed. I was humbled each time we came back and saw our footprints remaining in the same spots months later. I’ve felt the heavy helplessness of watching a freshwater marsh go through a drought, lily pads crunching underneath our feet on the dry, cracked mud. And I was lucky enough to see that same marsh finally retaining water when the drought let up – I will always be in awe of the resilience of plants.

During this internship, I was always thinking of a section of my favorite poem, Wendell Berry’s “Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front”:

            “Say that your main crop is the forest that you did not plant, that you will not live to harvest. Say that the leaves are harvested when they have rotted into the mold. Call that profit. Prophesy such returns. Put your faith in the two inches of humus that will build under the trees every thousand years. Listen to carrion — put your ear close, and hear the faint chattering of the songs that are to come. Expect the end of the world. Laugh. Laughter is immeasurable. Be joyful though you have considered all the facts.”

I had always read most of this poem as a metaphor. However during the past six months I was literally harvesting what I never planted. We had to put our faith in the natural cycles being able to overcome droughts and man-made disturbances. We were simply collecting seeds that Nature had done all the planting, farming, and caring for. Granted, my job depended directly and literally on the harvest of these ecosystems. Yet having this new, close-up perspective from this season allowed me to take to heart even more the lessons of optimism and resilience from plants.

I am truly grateful for this incredible opportunity I had to contribute to the cause of native seed collection, and to be a part of the CLM internship program and the New England Wild Flower Society. I’ve enjoyed every bit of it, and am excited to take all that I have learned with me into the future.

Here are a few pictures from the season that never made it into my posts – enjoy!

One of my favorite views at Great Marsh in Barnstable, MA – miles and miles of marsh.

Top of the sand dunes at Parker River National Wildlife Refuge on Plum Island – acres and acres of this view, it was stunning.

Small bayberry (Morella caroliniensis) was a tricky plant to collect from, but well worth it for the smell – definitely one of my favorites!

The boardwalk trails at Ponkapoag Bog (Canton, MA) through cedar and sphagnum moss forests

By far the most whimsical plant we ever collected – tawny cottonsedge (Eriophorum virginicum)

Botanist problems – having plants attack you when you just want some soup from the fridge… [keeping root stocks of switch panicgrass (Panicum virgatum) fresh to send to researchers at UNC]

Krista Heilmann

Seeds of Success East

New England Wild Flower Society

Framingham, MA

(Veggietales, anyone?)

It is definitely Fall here in New England, and each day is getting more and more beautiful with the changing foliage. The seeds are changing as well – we have entered into a season of finally being able to collect from the Asteraceae family – Goldenrods (Solidago spp.), Milkweed (Asclepias syriaca), and soon the pretty flowers of the Asters will also be dispersing their fluffy seeds to the wind.

Scarborough Marsh in Maine a few weeks ago, sporting some beautiful Fall colors.

New York Aster (Symphiotrichum nova-belgii) in a salt marsh in Southern MA.

Last Friday, we went on an adventure to collect seeds on one of the Boston Harbor Islands, Thompson Island. The Island runs STEM education programs for children and has camp programs as well. Just a twenty minute ferry ride out of a port in South Boston and we arrived. We met with someone from the National Parks Service who showed us around the island. They are working on restoration projects around the island, and will be using plants from our seed collections to replace invasive plants with native ones.

Approaching Thompson Island! A very windy morning, but sitting on the top deck was so worth it for the view.

We began our day in one of the salt marshes, and migrated throughout some smaller microhabitats throughout the island. We found a small patch of Canada goldenrod (Solidago canadensis) on the side of a hill, some blue vervain (Verbena hastata) and grass-leaved goldenrod (Euthamia graminifolia) sprinkled throughout a small meadow, and collected seed clusters from the staghorn sumac (Rhus hirta) along the paths (the trees we could reach anyway…). We also stopped to eat lunch on the beach facing Boston, and had a full view of the skyline.

There is something very serene about watching a bustling city from the shores of a quiet beach with your fellow hippies…

We then proceeded across the entire 170-acre island, looking for seeds along the way. Just as we were thinking we might have scoured the whole island, we decided to walk along the beach on the side facing the open ocean. Lo and behold, we found dozens of salt-marsh patches along the shore, filled with sea lavender (Limonium carolinianum), and finally in seed! We had been checking on this plant in so many of our sites, so it was very exciting to finally find somewhere it had ripe seed. This was our eighth collection for the day, almost breaking our nine-collection-in-a-day record. We had so many seeds that we had to put them all in a full-size trash bag to carry around the island. Quite a successful and beautiful day!

What the sea lavender looks like before it’s in seed – such a beautiful little plant! (Photo from gobotany.newenglandwild.org)

Cape Cod National Sea Shore a few weeks ago. Slightly unrelated, but the scenery was too dramatic not to post.

Krista Heilmann

Seeds of Success East

New England Wild Flower Society

Framingham, MA

It is now mid-September, and signs of Fall are finally becoming evident. More crisp days, it is feasible to drink tea in the morning and start out the day in a flannel.  Tree lines on our drives are turning gold and red and looking more like classic New England. And not having still, hot summer air makes fieldwork even more enjoyable.

This past week, we embarked on a two-day collection near Providence, RI, and it was quite different than any other we had done. Spartina alterniflora, or smooth cordgrass, has to be collected generally before the first full moon in September, so that the seeds don’t get washed out with the high tide. (Here’s more info about it from the NEWFS GoBotany website: https://gobotany.newenglandwild.org/species/spartina/alterniflora/ ). So with clippers in hand and full-size garbage bags tied to our waists, we set off for the marshes of Rhode Island.

Our mentor Michael proudly wielding his scythe in a stand of Spartina alterniflora.

We met with a woman from the Save the Bay program in Rhode Island, who is working on this project alongside us, as well as a few of her volunteers. The S. alterniflora collection is just one of the many restoration projects they are a part of. The seeds from last year’s collection were immediately grown and planted at Sachuest National Wildlife Refuge in Middletown, RI, to restore a degraded salt marsh there. We were able to see this project a few months ago – several plots composed of about 20,000 plugs, on their way to becoming a salt marsh again. It was so cool to see what our work looks like when it comes full circle! The S. alterniflora seeds we collected again this year will go to that same project. The main reason these seeds have been used right away (besides restoring a degraded marsh as soon as possible) is for a very practical reason – they smell HORRIBLE. This is because seeds are mostly composed of lipids, so the fats start to decay as soon as they are detached from the plant. If the seeds become too moldy, the viability will drop off drastically, and the collection would be in vain. Additionally, these plants came from a salt marsh, so naturally the salty leaves that got into our five full garbage bags smelled like it. By the end of the day, we definitely did too.

One of our five smelly full-size garbage bags of Spartina alterniflora seed heads.

The first day we were in some very dense patches of S. alterniflora, mostly bushwhacking through it, and it was mostly at eye-level or above our heads. That day felt more like trying to mow a lawn with a pair of scissors, although we had a beautiful view. These sites also had sidewalks or trails going through them, and we were able to show many dog-walkers, photographers, and people hunting for treasures with metal detectors what we were doing. It’s always a good day when we can raise awareness about the native plants to people who live right by those populations!

The beautiful view from our lunch break at our first collection site. The grassy-looking plants down on the beach is the Spartina alterniflora!

The site on the second day was a less dense population, and was best reached by sloshing through three feet of ocean it grows next to. Especially on a warmer day, overtopping hot rubber boots is so refreshing. The coastline here was also being degraded by invasive fiddler crabs, which created these sort of mudflat islands right before the S. alterniflora populations. If you’ve ever played “the floor is lava”, it was a very similar situation in trying to determine which patches of mud I could balance on to snag some more seeds, and which would just suck my leg down into three feet of mud – needless to say, I was having a grand old time, although I am definitely sad about the dieback of the saltmarsh.

Our final collection site. The S. alterniflora is the taller grass farther away – I didn’t get a closer picture for fear of falling in!

Krista Heilmann

Seeds of Success East Intern

New England Wild Flower Society

Framingham, MA

Goodness, how time flies! We are about half way done with our internship already! While the beginning of the summer focused more on scouting out sites for plants we were able to collect, we are now finally getting into the full swing of seed collecting season. We’ve made over 40 collections so far (sometimes up to five in one day) covering all five New England coastal states. We’ve voyaged over seas of sand dunes, gotten sucked into mud waist-deep, narrowly escaped endless clouds of mosquitos, bushwhacked through 10-foot tall stands of Phragmites, walked through creeks chest-high in water, canoed through rivers that were more plant-matter than water, and had a few lucky days of being caught in the rain – a very welcome way to cool off. Every day has been a different adventure with new things to learn. It’s been a very immersive (figuratively and literally) way to experience the natural world, and I’ve been enjoying every bit of it.

The rare winged monkey-flower (Mimulus alatus) – totally worth the wading through a creek up to our chests!

These seeds drying in pans really brighten up our living room, but our neighbors think we are really weird…

Our first fleshy fruit collection! Gaylussacia baccata (black huckleberry).

Currently most of New England is in a moderate to severe drought. Although we don’t have enough comparative data to draw any solid conclusions, we are pretty sure that the drought has been impacting many of the plants very badly this year. Last week were in a small salt marsh in Southern CT, when we came across a huge patch of Schoenoplectus pungens (three-square bulrush). There were plenty of plants to collect from, however after sampling a few of them we realized it wouldn’t be worth it. The seeds were either absent or had turned to mush, the top half of the plants yellow and sun-scorched. Similarly, there have been several times now that we’ve witnessed a very distraught population of Juncus gerardii (black grass). This is one of the four main component species of a salt marsh, usually filling the landscape of the upper marsh area. Most of our sites with J. gerardii have massive populations, yet we are having trouble finding good seed – some we have had to not even attempt a collection from. According to our mentor and last year’s records, J. gerardii should have plenty of seeds available for collection well into August.

Great Marsh, Barnstable, MA. Most of the green here is composed of Juncus gerardii, but we haven’t been able to collect it here because the seeds simply were not there. But it is still a really beautiful site.

I don’t think I would have fully understood the effects of the drought if I hadn’t been out in the field this summer. It’s one thing to read or hear about something like this, but it’s another thing to see it up close. And it’s a third thing to experience it. Because we have been out in the field during the hottest parts of the day, I found I’m able to empathize with these plants on a much more personal level. However, we know that at the end of the day we will catch a breeze in our air-conditioned cars, fill up water bottles from a cold faucet, and eat a nutrient-balanced meal. The plants and animals in these habitats can’t make that assumption, especially during a drought like this. Being out there with these plants on a daily basis is helping me not take these gifts essential for our survival for granted… Yet for those few hours of our day, we are united in our experience. We’ve been drained and wilted under the relentless heat, and we’ve been dancing and laughing and re-energized during the rains. I like to think that the plants are having the same reactions too – we are just much more vocal about it.

Dry/dead Juncus gerardii at Great Marsh, Barnstable, MA. Sometimes you have to just make the best of the situation…

…and take a nap in the salt marsh 🙂

Here’s to hoping for more rain, and moving forward with gratitude.

—

Krista Heilmann

Seeds of Success East Intern

New England Wild Flower Society

Framingham, MA

After about a month and a half of scouting out sites, meeting with landowners, and learning a LOT of plants, we finally completed our first seed collection this past Thursday! On Wednesday, we went to Harwichport on Cape Cod, to a 40+ acre backyard complete with a bog, some streams, some woods, and a large family of very protective ospreys right in the middle of prime collection area. Clearly they haven’t been filled in about our conservation efforts and still think that the five hippies tromping around the bog are trying to steal their babies…

Alas, nothing to be collected at this site yet. Many species will be ready here in about a week or two. We camped nearby, and Thursday morning went to a Mass Audubon site on the Cape called Longpasture. We made our way down to the saltmarsh, and spread out across the beach to test capsules of Juncus gerardii (commonly called black grass, although it is actually a sedge and not a grass at all). Sampling for ripeness mainly involves breaking open the capsules to reveal the tiny speck-sized seeds inside, and checking out the color. In this species, we are looking for dark brown to black seeds, whereas yellow to orange seeds are not yet ready.

The TINY specks surrounding the pile of capsules are the actual seeds – DON’T SNEEZE! Their dark brown/black color means they are ripe and ready for collection!

We spread out along the beach, and zig-zagged back and forth in our sections, collecting from every third or so plant. Once I go into a rhythm, it was really enjoyable and therapeutic. I didn’t make the connection until I was out in the field pulling up seed, but it’s the same summertime feel as going berry-picking – you just have to keep count (and we can’t eat them…) Needless to say, I am so happy to be doing this for the next five months!

The patches of the more brown-tinted grass-like plants are the Juncus gerardii. It is more of a high marsh species, hence it is not growing closer to the water. (Also, what a view!)

For each collection, we have three main protocols to keep in mind: 1. Collect from at least 50 individual plants, 2. Collect no more than 20% of the population, and 3. Collect at least 10,000 seeds. This seems like a large number of seeds, however each individual plant sends up a few stems with capsules, each stem has many capsules on it, and each capsule has many seeds inside. So after all the math was said and done, between the five of us we wound up with approximately 630,000 seeds. Go team go!

Bag full o’ seeds. First collection was quite a success!

Krista Heilmann

Seeds of Success Intern

New England Wild Flower Society, Framingham, MA

Hello from New England! I am one of the Seeds of Success interns, based out of Garden in the Woods in Massachusetts, and doing seed collection on the New England coast. I’m having a fantastic time with my team and learning so much! For those of you just tuning in, here’s a little background of what we are doing: The seeds we collect will be sent to storage facilities and propagators to grow them, and eventually the plants from these seeds will be used as part of coastal restoration projects (many in areas damaged by Hurricane Sandy). By collecting seeds from large populations near the sites that will use these plants, we aim to give these projects plants that are both genetically diverse, but also representative of local genotypes and are adapted to local environmental conditions. However as it is still too early in the season, we haven’t done any seed collecting yet. Most of our time this past month has been spent learning and studying plants, and scouting out sites for future collections. We have also met with a few project managers at restoration project sites, where plants grown from our seed collections will be used. This has been an extremely valuable part of my learning experience in the internship in order to see the bigger picture of the impact our seed collection will make, and where we fit in to the whole process.

Our view while eating breakfast on our way to Stonington, CT last week. We’ve had a meal with a view like this almost every day in the field so far!

I especially got a lot out of our visit to a site in Stonington, CT last week. After camping over in Rhode Island last Thursday, we packed up our campsite Friday morning, grabbed some bagels, and headed to the site (not without getting slightly lost along the way of course) to meet a woman named Beth. We pulled onto a side street in an adorable little town, and were quickly met by a rocky coast heading into the water on the right. On the left, surrounded by a few houses, was the site – a sort of empty, muddy pit. The outer edges contained the typical plant life you would expect to see near the coast, however any sign of life dropped off immediately at the center of the pit.

Right side of the site – notice the distinct lack of vegetation in the center.

The left side of the site – notice how the vegetation suddenly drops off…

Beth greeted us with a huge smile, and excitedly shared about the work she and her coworkers had been doing here. As she explained the history and ecology of the site, a daunting list of hurdles became evident:
– Problem 1: Before it was a residential community, the area was composed of many factories, including a pottery factory right on the site, which had burned down in the 1950s.
– Problem 2: After the fire, site filled in with invasive Phragmites.
– Problem 3: During strong tides, the waves came over the wall of the pit and filled it with ocean water. Having no way to retreat back to the ocean, the water evaporates, concentrating the salt into the soil.
– Problem 4: Due to the increase in development and housing, fresh water drained in from neighboring streets began to also seep in to the site.
– Problem 5: October 2012, Hurricane Sandy greatly impacted the area. However, with the hurricane came more funding to restore coastal habitat. The DEP began taking care of the Phragmites with mowing and herbiciding cycle.
– Problem 6: While the removal of the Phragmites was rather successful, the mowing and digging led to very compacted soil.
– Problem 7: After most of the Phragmites was removed, they received a grant to plant native plants at the site. They chose plants that were ideal for that kind of harsh coastal habitat, yet for some reason, these plants immediately and very drastically died. Soil tests revealed one of the main impacts of Problem 1 from the factories – the soil had very high lead content.

Healthy patches of Solidago sempervirens (seaside goldenrod) along the edge of the site.

A very unhappy Solidago sempervirens, less than a foot away from the healthy patch in the picture above. This is a common coastal plant that normally can withstand very aggressive conditions.

Just when it seemed like Beth and her team were making progress, they were catapulted back to square 1. Essentially, they needed to find several plants that would grow well in soil with high salt content, freshwater as well as tidal influx, salt spray off the ocean, high lead content, and compacted soil – not to mention the very particular aesthetic of the neighbors that needed to be satisfied. Budgets and grants also had to be considered… If anyone reading this knows where we can find magical super-plants that meet all of these requirements, please let us know. You may become a millionaire. Or at least be crowned King/Queen of Conservation. In the meantime, Beth has been planting plugs of the grass Spartina patens, and has had some moderate success. Yet to top it all off, the local crows have decided to start a game with Beth and began pulling up the plugs and dropping them a few feet away to dry out in the sun.

Some of the planted plugs of Spartina patens doing well, closer to the coast line.

I need to pause here to appreciate Beth’s optimism. As if this site wasn’t already a seemingly complete disaster with no straight answer to bring it back to a healthy ecosystem, the crows pulling out the plugs was just the icing on the cake. I know if it were me, that would have tipped me over the edge. However Beth saw this as just another piece of the puzzle to be solved.

Pile of Spartina patens plugs we collected. After we left, Beth took these all back to her house to water them and soak them in a nutrient solution. She planned to plant them in deeper the next day to hopefully prevent the crows from pulling them up again.

Near the end of our time with Beth, we helped her pick up the Spartina plugs scattered by the crows. As we gently gathered the plugs one by one, I looked around at the site and felt what I’m sure is a piece of what keeps Beth going at this site. When you are in the mundane of work like that, it is sometimes hard to remember why you are there in the first place. Yet with the perspective that your work is a small thread connected to other small threads, working and weaving together to create a tapestry of something bigger than ourselves, your purpose becomes clear. Conservation is one of those fields that requires extreme, almost illogical optimism, and a willingness to fight for something that you may not see the end result of in your lifetime. I am grateful to have seen this perspective in action, and hope to apply it to the rest of my field season.

Signing off with peace, love, and lots of plants,

Krista Heilmann

Seeds of Success Intern

New England Wild Flower Society, Framingham, MA