It's Lilac Season, Nerds!

A trip to the Arnold Arboretum

I’m celebrating the run up to the August release of my book, Boston and Beyond: Discovering Cities, Hahhhbahhhs, and Country Chahhhhmmms! I will be using my worst Masshole drawl every time I say the title, which I personally find endearing though my editor will likely disagree. Each month I’ll spotlight a different location or unique find from the book. Any images I share here will be different than the ones that made the cut. This is what is known in THE MARKETING as a “pro move.” I can’t believe people go to school for this stuff.

I can’t shut up (won’t shut up) about the spring bloom season for good reason—it is a banger. The blooms seem more brilliant and vibrant than in recent memory. Adding to this is the general momentum of the spring season. Just when one variety of something bows out, another sashays on the runway to take its place. Spring is full of kinetic energy that keeps you on your toes, making it the perfect season for our distraction happy culture.

All of this is to say, IT’S LILAC SEASON, NERDS! Lilacs are one of the most pervasive and popular flowers in New England. They were first introduced into northern European gardens in the sixteenth century before making their way to American colonies in the 1700s along with scurvy and white privilege. Take it from someone who could choke a silk flower to death—lilacs are a garden slam dunk. They have been Frankensteined up the wazoo into many, many varieties including a compact version known as a “dwarf lilac” that clocks in at about one third the size of a traditional lilac bush. Some like a small bush and I’ll leave it at that. And there is no better place to have a full blown ‘lac attack (oh, that was quite bad) than at the Arnold Arboretum: one of Boston’s most beautiful natural treasures and home to more than 400 varieties of lilac.

God-light is in this diva’s contract. ©SheilaMoeschenPhotography

Established in 1872, the arboretum covers 281 acres and is populated with more than 17,000 species of plants, flowers, and trees. The Arnold Arboretum is the visionary project of James Arnold, a wealthy merchant from New Bedford, Massachusetts. During the first half of the nineteenth century, New Bedford was one of the country’s most important and richest whaling ports. Sadly, just about everything going for these incredible marine mammals—their blubber, their skins, their bones and teeth—turned them into gigantic, bloated money bags in the eyes of European colonists.

Arnold was no different; he amassed his fortune through this bloody industry. But he also happened to be a very serious agricultural and horticultural enthusiast. When Arnold died in 1872, he stipulated in his will that $100,000 should go toward the “promotion of Horticultural and Agricultural improvements.” His estate trustees enlisted the assistance of The President and Fellows of Harvard College, a group that seemed to know their way around a greenhouse based on how hot they were for all things Latin. The Fellows took Arnold’s gift and combined it with 120 acres of existing land that had been donated to the college by Benjamin Bussey, another financially successful merchant and longtime advocate for advancing the science of horticulture.

For nature lovers this definitely feels like the gates of Wonka’s factory swinging open. ©SheilaMoeschenPhotography

I have to say, regardless of how Arnold lined his piggy bank, good on him for ultimately wanting to put it toward land/nature preservation. I often drive by empty lots that have been demolished just waiting for a new bank or Poke bowl place to be built and fantasize about having Bezos money to purchase it and fill it with trees and plants. In those post-apocalyptic movies where the Eiffel Tower is covered in moss and gigantic Venus Flytrap plants, I feel soothed, like gravity blanket comforted. All that rewilding! Does it come at the cost of humanity’s destruction? Probably. Am I willing to trade the grid for it? Sure. We had a good run, technology. Defibrillators and light switches are overrated.

It took nearly a decade for the Arnold Arboretum to fully materialize. Charles Sprague Sargent, a well-known botanist, was the arboretum’s first director. In 1877 he hired the renowned landscape architect Frederick Law Olmstead to physically cultivate the landscape. Olmstead was no stranger to the Commonwealth of Massachusetts; he designed Boston’s Emerald Necklace, a series of connected greenspaces and waterways snaking through sections of the city. Olmstead implemented gently sloping paths, tranquil ponds, and discrete access roads all designed to move visitors through the grounds in a leisurely fashion.

Sargent and his teams literally grew the arboretum from species collected all over the world. From as early as the 1890s, botanists and horticulturalists from all over America began making contributions to the Arnold. The British botanist Ernest Henry Wilson led six expeditions spanning across China, Japan, and Korea between 1899 and 1919. Many of Wilson’s plants continue to flourish and propagate within the arboretum today.

This was a great way to claim botany bragging rights along the lines of “our ficus is bigger than yours.” It also positioned the arboretum as a world class research facility, which holds to present day.

The Arnold’s lilac collection is one of its most impressive, show-stopping features in a place that is already delightfully chocked full of green gifts. It is intentionally established along an area known as Bussey Hill, which provides a tiered layout so that the clusters of shrubs appear to cascade in waves of purples, pinks, and creams.

A teeny sliver of Lilac Row. Can you smell this image? Apologies to allergy sufferers. ©SheilaMoeschenPhotography

Each Mother’s Day since 1908 the arboretum hosts Lilac Sunday. Walking tours, family activities, and the one day of the year when picnicking is allowed on the grounds—Lilac Sunday alone is worth the trip. Come for the blooms, stay to experience a place that would wow the pants off James Arnold himself.