The Travel Herbarium of C.A.S. Book, 1882, 2023

Pressing of purple flower over text.
Pressing of purple flower next to text which reads, "Growth is the outcome of destruction. It is a necessary bond between two opposites for one to cope with loss while patiently awaiting the gift of nature's respite. A fire destroys acres of forest, yet the disturbance increases the speed of regrowth unearthing essential nutrients from the expeditious decaying of both plant and animal. Not only is the regrowth quick, but with the ash left behind the earth grants an even healthier vegetation. Thus, through tragedy, we wait for comfort and as though rewarded for our patience, we are given new life. In 1917, Williston Hall, Mount Holyoke's science building, burnt to the ground. The fire swallowed all which has been acquired from its 1876 conception. A notable loss was the collection of herbariums created by students and faculty. The early years of Mount Holyoke Seminary placed huge importance on the creation of a student herbarium. By the end of their studies, a mandatory requirement of 300 specimens were expected. The hand of every student deliberately pressed each specimen with care. With that care comes artistic intent as every plant differs from the next emitting a unique and special force. These herbariums not only hold the physical labor of collection and preservation, but represent a time when art and science was not considered one or another. Through efforts of community outreach many personal herbariums were donated to the school. Some dating back before the existence of Williston Hall. Within these donations rests one in particular created by a woman we only know by her initials: C.A.S. Tucked away amongst thousands of other herbariums, her plants were wedged between two pieces of wood as if already a makeshift book. Documenting her travels in 1882, C.A.S. specimens take us on a journey to Switzerland, England, Scotland, Ireland, Greece, and Italy. Paired with each plant she notes excerpts from poems reminiscent of her findings. Though deceased, both poet and plant, her efforts that were once perhaps a personal outlet allow each element to continue breathing. From a fire that destroyed years of invaluable accomplishments we are given the rare opportunity to encounter something we would not have discovered otherwise. And so, it is from the herbarium of C.A.S., stems grow thick and wild yielding a key to eternal life. Tara Castellano, 2023."
A handwritten note next to pressed clippings of ivy.
A pressed ivy clipping next to a poem which reads "O reader! hast thou ever stood to see The Holly tree? The eye that contemplates it well. perceives Its glossy leaves Order'd by an intelligence, so wise As might confound the Atheist's sophistries. Below a circling fence its leaves are seen, Wrinkled and keen; No grazing cattle through their prickly round Can reach to wound; But as they grow where nothing is to fear, Smooth and unarm'd the pointless leaves appear. Thus, though abroad perchance I might appear Harsh and austere, To those who on my leisure would intrude Reserv'd and rude; Gentle at home amid my friends I d be, Like the high leaves upon the Holly tree. Robert Southy, The Holly Tree."
A handwritten pome next to a pressing of brown leaves.
A pressing of brown leaves next to a poem which reads "Far up on sternest Alpine crests Where winds of tempest blow, They say that, all unfearing, rests A flower upon the snow--- A tiny flower, pale and sweet, That blooms o'er breath of ice; And glad are they, on any day, Who find the Edelweiss, Margaret E. Sangster, The Edelweiss. I was born in my little shroud, All woolly, warm, and white; I live in the mist and the cloud. I live for my own delight. I bloom for the eagle's eye, I bloom for the daring hand, I live but for God, and I die Unto Him, and at His command. Dora Greenwell, The Edelweiss."
A handwritten poem next to a pressing of small, orange flowers.
A pressed orange flower next to a poem which reads "Have ye ever heard in the twilight dim, A low, soft strain, That ye fancied a distant vesper hymn, Borne o'er the plain By the zephyrs that rise on perfumed wing, When the sun's last glances are glimmering? Have ye heard that music, with cadence sweet, And merry peal, Ring out, like the echoes of fairy feet, O'er flowers that steal? And did ye deem that each trembling tone Was the distant vesper-chime alone? The source of that whispering strain I'll tell For I've listened oft To the music faint of the Blue Har-Bell, In the gloaming soft 'Tis the gay fairy-folk the peal who ring, At even-time for their banqueting. Louisa Anne Twamley, The Blue Hare bell."
A handwritten poem next to pressed gold, red, and brown leaves.
Pressing of gold. red, and brown leaves next to a poem which reads "The ivy, that staunchest and firmest friend That hastens its succouring arm to lend To the ruined fane, where in youth it clung, And its pliant tendrils in sport were flung Where the sinking buttress and mould'ring tower Seem only the spectres of former power, The ivy clusters around the wall, And for tapestry waves in the moss grown hall, Striving in beauty and youth to dress The desolate place in its loneliness. Louisa Anne Twamley, Christmas Wreath."
A handwritten poem next to a pressing of yellow and brown flowers. Above the flowers, text reads "Sweet Alpine flowers, whose blossoms tell Of mountain torrents, wooded dell, Of soaring peak, of deep abyss, Of Earth's cold lips ye trembling kiss. The Riffelberg."
A handwritten poem next to a pressed, brown, bell-shaped flower. Above the flower, text reads "Still looking upwards towards the blue Till heaven imparts its own glad hue On Alpine Flowers; Sweet Alpine Flowers. The Rigi, Sunday, Sept. 10, 1882, C.A.S."
A handwritten poem next to a pressing of a red flower. Text above the flower reads "With crimson cheeks pressed to the snow Some seem to lend a summer glow. The last rose of summer, Rhone Glacier, Sept. 6, 1882. From the Engadine CAS. Rhododendron. 'Alpine Roses.'"
A handwritten poem next to pressed flowers. Above the flowers, text reads "Wee prattlers of that heavenly care That guard man's footsteps everywhere! Sweet Alpine Flowers. Lydia L.A. Very, Alpine Flowers. Sunset alone on the Riffel. 8000 ft. high."
A handwritten poem next to pressed yellow and orange flowers. Text above the flowers reads "On pastures wide and green, Upon a thousand stems, Fit for a fairy queen To wear for precious gems. Young cowslips smile at earth and sky, With sweetest breath and golden eye. Jane Taylor, The Leafy Spring. The Summit of the Rigi."
A handwritten poem next to a pressing of ivy and small, red leaves.
Pressed ivy leaves next to text which reads "Today, from all thy ruined walls The flowers wave flags of peace For time has proved thy conqueror And bade thy warfare cease Thy dungeons are untenanted, Thy captives are set free; The daisy with sweet childish face Keeps watch across the tea Thy halls are open to the sky, The revelry has ceased. The echoes of thy mirth have died With fires that lit the feast What keepers of they secrets old Filt through the wind and rain? What stern-faced ghosts have come by night To visit the again? Sarah Orne Jewett, Dunluce Castle, *Retitled Blarney Castle with extra verses. Which he who kisses Never Misses To grow eloquent. Richard Alfred Milliken, The Groves of Blarney, *Retitled The Blarney Stone, lyrics altered."
A handwritten poem next to pressed, small, blue flowers.
Pressed blue flowers next to text which reads "Ye ice falls! Who, with living flowers Of loveliest blue, spread garlands at your feet? Ye living flowers that skirt th'eternal frost Utter forth God, and fill the hills with praise. Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Hymn Before Sun-Rise, In the Vale of Chamouni."
A handwritten poem next to pressed, red flowers with leaves.
Pressing of a red flower with leaves next to text which reads "The very flower to take Into the heart, and make The cherished memory of all pleasant places. Name but the light Harebell, And straight is pictured well Where're of fallen state lie lonely traces. Old slopes of pasture ground Old fosses, and moat, and mound Where the mailed warrior and crusaders came, Old walls of crumbling stone Where trails the snap-dragon Rise at the mention of the Harebell's name. Mary Howett, The Harebell."
A handwritten poem next to pressed, green leaves.
Pressed green leaves next to text which reads "Far, vague, and dim, The mountain swim; While on Vesuvius' misty brim, With outstretched hands, The gray smoke stands O'er looking the volcanic lands. Thomas Buchanan Read, Drifting."
A handwritten poem next to a pressing of red wildflowers.
Pressed red wildflowers next to text which reads "I found a solitary wee forget-me-not flourishing away, not a droop about it anywhere, but holding its bright blue star up with the prettiest and gallantest air in the world, the only happy spirit, the only smiling thing, in all that grisly desert. Respect her for the fight she had made, all by her small self, to make a whole vast despondent Alpine desolation stop breaking its heart over the unalterable, and hold up its head and look at the bright side of things. Mark Twain, A Tramp Abroad, From The World's Highest Pig Farm, Ch. 34."