Moonstruck by Herbaria

Abstract

I have become fascinated by herbaria, collections of dried plant specimens. Like many new loves, this one began rather suddenly. Yes, I had known about them for years and had even been to a symposium on virtual herbaria, but I hardly ever gave them a thought. Then, as described in my January column (Flannery, 2011), while attending the Botany 2010 meeting last August in Providence, Rhode Island, I had a tour of the herbarium at the Museum of Natural History and Planetarium, Roger Williams Park. I also went to a couple of sessions on the effort to digitize herbarium collections throughout the United States. These experiences got me thinking about herbaria and reading up on them. When, in October, I had a chance to revisit the herbarium in Providence, I was moonstruck. I really wanted to dig into the subject and learn as much about herbaria as I could. Like many love affairs, this one isn't based on particularly sound judgment. I am not a botanist and know little about plants, although I've gotten interested in drawing them, and I've done some work on Agnes Arber, an early-20th-century plant morphologist (Flannery, 2005). Still, I am definitely light on plant knowledge. But I think this is part of the lure of the subject: a plunge into the unknown, a desire to push my brain. I have begun, just begun, to seriously consider herbaria, and this column is my first attempt to write about them. I have already discovered so much I find interesting that I am hoping this information will interest you as well. When I went back to the Providence herbarium, the curator, Marilyn Massaro, opened up not only the shelves of specimens to me, but also boxes of books with pressed plants. Most of these aren't of much use …