09 April, 1944

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 578 % Postmaster, N.Y.

England

9 April, 1944       1030

Dearest darling Wilma –

Easter Sunday – and a bad day here. It’s really a shame, too, for there have been so many nice days recently. Easter Sunday – and the war in Europe is still on – contrary to prognosticators, seers, dreamers, et al. We’ve now passed Christmas and are passing Easter and I wonder when the next time limit will be announced. There’s only one hope I have of an unexpected break in the war and that is the way the last war ended. Right up to the end – no one suspected anything – and then suddenly it was over. Maybe the same will occur this time.

Meanwhile, sweetheart, in the midst of all this waiting and lonesomeness – I am completely happy, content, satisfied and relaxed – and it’s all due to you, darling, and to what has happened to us in this past Summer, Winter and Spring. To have dreamed that it could happen would have been truly only dreaming, and I still have to reassure myself, dear, from time to time that things are as they are between us. It almost doesn’t seem possible that we could have met as we did and then carry on just as if I were still around. And yet when I think it over – as I am doing continuously it seems – there’s no doubt in my mind that all this would have happened had I stayed around. I knew I loved you when I left and I would have followed up that love to its natural conclusion. And that’s what makes our becoming engaged so real, sensible and natural – despite its unusual aspect.

Sweetheart – I got your letter of March 28 – yesterday – which is the first time in a long while that the mail service in this direction has been so good. I also heard from my dad – letter written on the same day – and both letters were the ones I had been waiting for. They told me what I wanted to know – and believe me, dearest, last month was really a long long month for me.

I don’t know how to describe my own reactions. It’s all so new to me. For the past half dozen years or more – all around me my friends were getting engaged, attached, married etc – and I just seemed to be by the wayside – watching the passing parade. Nothing was happening to me. Now that it is, I can hardly make myself believe that it is I who is involved this time. I would undoubtedly find it novel and exciting were I home to enjoy its realities; you can imagine then, darling what a mixture of emotion I’m having when my fiancée, mine, mind you – is 3000 miles away, and when I don’t have the pleasure of being with her, or of seeing the happiness of her folks and mine. But your letters, dear, are vivid – and I’m getting the picture of what’s going on back home – and I can repeat only – that I’ve never been happy before – the way I am now. To have our folks feel the way they do about the whole thing – is added blessing. From my father’s letter it is obvious that they’re thrilled and happy. I believe they always worried about what would happen to me – alone in Salem, and to have me meet and become engaged to as lovely a girl as you are – must make them feel beside themselves with joy. I hope, darling, that your folks are as pleased about it as my folks are.

What follows from here, darling, is detail. By now I know my dad must have purchased a ring. I don’t know his taste. I hope only that it is one you like and will be proud to wear. I don’t know either when you will start wearing it. Darling – when you do – know this: that for me it signifies all that is good and noble between two people who are pledged to marry, that it is my promise that I am for you alone, for always, and that in my mind and heart it is a token of my desire to be your husband – one day – and to assume the loyalty, responsibility, devotion – and love that a husband should have for a wife. For me, dear, the ring is a symbol of all that’s to come and may the Lord bless us and help us fulfill what I feel.

So long for now, Sweetheart; be well, my love to the folks – and by our engagement – whenever it is – you have made me enduringly happy, no matter what lies ahead.

All my truest love –

Greg.

08 April, 1944

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 578 % Postmaster, N.Y.

England

8 April, 1944        0930

Darling Wilma –

Well the first day of our being alone here passed by rather uneventfully. There just wasn’t a darn thing to do around. Being Good Friday – the town was closed up in its entirety. After lunch I took a nap for the first time in a long while – I mean a real nap. The net result was that despite going to bed for the night at about 2330 – I didn’t sleep too well. One thing, darling, you’ll not have to worry about – and that is sleeping away the time. I’ve always felt that it’s really a great waste. I’d much rather be up doing something. Of course, sweetheart, that’s from a single man’s point of view.

When I got up – I washed and decided to ride down to the Dispensary on my bike. On the way down – I passed Mrs. Whitfield – who was also on a bike. She is the woman who was trying to get us ration coupons – presumably for Mother’s Days gifts. She had tried to contact me to tell me that her efforts were unsuccessful but that she and a friend of hers would like to give Charlie and me some of their own. I of course refused. Anyway – she invited me to supper at her house tonight at 1930. She wants me to meet her son – you remember he was the fellow who went to the Rivers School in Brookline while she was traveling in the U.S. So I accepted – although I wished she had asked me to come over another night. It means, dear, that I play squash in the p.m., then have tea with the Reverend and his wife and then dinner. What a way to fight a war! It will be a full day – but I’ll have nothing to do the rest of the week.

After supper – the four of us went up to one of the rooms to play bridge. I hadn’t played in a long time although I’ve tried not to get rusty by reading Culbertson’s problem hands – a column presented daily in the Phila. Inquirer which Charlie gets.

All would have been well, sweetheart, but from nowhere one of the fellows – Bruce – produced a full bottle of Haig and Haig Scotch. Paradoxically – it’s rarer in this country than at home. We kept drinking – for me it was the first hard liquor in some time – and playing, drinking and playing and then drinking and drinking. When the bottle was finished dear, my partner – Bill Bowman – and myself were down – two rubbers to one. So we decided to go downstairs to the main drawing room and play the games off in ping-pong. You can imagine what a game of doubles we played. We ended up winning two and six ($.50). By game’s end we were all running around downstairs in shorts, whooping it up and running all over the place. Try and imagine 4 guys a little bit tight running around in a place this size. And that’s how I spent the first night of Passover, darling, – not very religiously I’ll grant you – but what could I do? It was a good escape mechanism – that’s all.

I got mail yesterday, dear, one V-mail from you – written March 22 and I can gather now why there was so much delay in our exchange of letters. Apparently something went haywire around the middle of March – and just when we wanted to hear from each other most – there were days on end of no mail. If I hadn’t received your dad’s cablegram – I’d still be hanging around on thin air – so thank him again darling for sending it. Now I’m waiting to hear what has followed. It’s so nice to be in love with you, dearest, and to know that you are really going to be mine. It makes my missing you a mixture of satisfaction and patience – and you must know what I mean. Sweetheart – I do miss you so much – it’s hard to measure – but I can wait for you as you’re doing for me and when we have each other – it will all have been worth it. Best regards and love to the folks – darling and remember sweetheart that my love is only for you and for always –

Greg.

* TIDBIT *

about Whitby and Whitby Jet

In yesterday's letter Greg mentioned that most of his unit went to Whitby to do what they did in Wellfleet. Earlier letters identified that activity as firing practice. He said he was sorry he wasn't going. Here's "That little sea-coast town" that he missed.

CLICK ON PICTURES TO ENLARGE

The Route of the Question Mark mentioned "Whitby Jet". Whitby Jet, a hard, black, shiny gem closely related to coal, was undoubtedly one of the earliest gemstones used to create artefacts and items of jewelery and has a cultural heritage that extends back to early tool making man. This history can be charted from the Bronze age, through the Roman occupation and Viking invasions and onwards to its meteoritic climb to fame in the mid 19th century Victorian England. During the Victorian period, when the ritual surrounding death and the long mourning of Queen Victoria made black fashionable, jet became hugely popular. Although jet is found elsewhere in the world, it is the jet from Whitby that excites collectors to such an extent that even jet jewelry manufactured elsewhere is often called Whitby Jet.

Jet Mourning Brooch

Whitby Jet's geological history starts in the middle of the Jurassic era, some 150 million years ago at the bottom of the Liassic Sea, which then covered much of England. Fossil evidence from this fascinating era is abundant and easily detected in the cliffs and on the beaches that adjoin Whitby to the North and South. Jet is the fossilized remains of the Araucaria tree from the Jurassic period and is only found along a seven and a half mile stretch of the North Yorkshire coastline centered around Whitby. (The common name of the Araucaria tree is the Monkey-puzzle tree or Chilean pine.)

On the floor of the sea there had already been deposits of materials that subsequently became the Main Seam Ironstone, and on top of this there were deposits of mud being washed down the rivers from adjoining landmass, forming an ever-increasing sedimentary layer. The Araucaria trees formed a significant part of the vegetable debris washed into the Liassic Sea and gradually became waterlogged. The accumulation of mud plus the weight of sea above produced enormous pressures and the individual trees were flattened into narrow 'seams'. The glutinous nature of the sedimentary layer completely sealed these seams and pockets of wood and an anaerobic fossilization slowly took place. Thus the new stratum of rock then being formed contained a plethora of these trees, scattered entirely at random. Jet is usually found in seams ranging from 5mm to 50mm thick and in a variety of lengths.

More about Whitby and Whitby Jet can be read where much of this information was gleaned, The Whitby Jet Heritage Centre web site. The following video of master carver and Whitby native restoration artist, Hal Redvers-Jones, was found there.

07 April, 1944

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 578 % Postmaster, N.Y.

England

7 April, 1944       1015

My dearest darling –

Tonite is Passover and although I was unable to be at the services at home last year, somehow it was different. For one thing, I remember I was in Tennessee at the time and I was able to call home and at least speak to the folks late that afternoon. Another difference is that I didn’t have a sweetheart who might have been able to attend the services with me were I home. I don’t know what plans have materialized between you and my family but I hope you will be able to be with them some part of the holidays. I know it will make them feel better. Gosh how I’d like to be home with the family and you – all seated around the table, drinking wine and making merry. We’ll have a lot of fun, someday, darling – and I hope it’s not too far off.

At the present moment I’m at the Castle. It’s very quiet right now, the reason being that there are only 3 other officers besides myself staying here. The rest of us have gone to do what we did at Wellfleet on good old Cape Cod – remember, dear? Ordinarily I’ve always gone on such things but the colonel wanted one MC to remain behind to help watch over things so I decided to stay. It will be a sort of vacation for me except that I’ll be rather tied down to the immediate area. They’ll be gone about the usual length of time.

I believe I told you, darling, about playing squash with a Reverend Bell of the boys’ school. I’m supposed to meet him again tomorrow p.m. for another match. He called me yesterday to ask if I’d like to come and have tea after the game – at his home. He said his wife would like to meet me. It was nice of him to call and I accepted. They live right near the castle. Tea, of course, darling is the thing in England, from the poorest to the wealthiest – and I really think they have something. Always at 1600 – everyone stops to have tea. It means that they eat their evening meal rather late – namely about 1930 – but it does help break up the day nicely. Their tea is very bitter, however, and they always drink it with milk in it – which I never liked particularly. I think I’ll bring the Reverend some tobacco. He smokes, and anyone in England who does smoke appreciates American tobacco – whether its cigarettes, cigars or for smoking.

Other then that – I have no plans at all. I’ve almost given up on the movies in this town. I went last night again and saw two awful English pictures – one with Clive Brook – remember him? They were really sad. One nice thing about this theater, though, is the fact that at the end of the show they play the Star Spangled Banner and then ‘God Save the King’ – and you’d be surprised what a kick you get out of singing our own National Anthem – when you’re away from your own country.

Well, darling, I guess I’m kind of thinking of home a lot in today’s letter – but it’s because I miss all of you so much. I love you, dear, and would love so much to be with you again. We were so happy together – even with the war over our heads; how much more happy we’ll be when the war is over, when we’re married and living together in Salem – living and planning things together. I have so much faith in you and the future, darling, that I know all will turn out as we want it to.

My love to your folks, sweetheart, and for now, so long.

All my deepest love, dear

Greg.

Route of the Question Mark

A continuation of Page 20 from The Route of the Question Mark is transcribed below, naming the Wellfleet-like firing practice location as Whitby.

page 20
Calisthenics in the stable yard... The twins... Calisthenics for Officers on the castle lawn... The restriction of the First Three Graders... The Officers parties in the castle... The dances at Digby Hall... Morning coffee at Coombs'... The baseball games on the lawn, and the day the team lost the game to "D" battery and we all went broke... Sun-bathing on the lead roof of the castle... Putting names on the trucks and trailers; Gigged Again, Yankee Gum, and Back-Breaker... The firing practice at Whitby, and the exciting life in that little sea-coast town... Whitby jet...

06 April, 1944

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 578 % Postmaster, N.Y.

England

6 April, 1944    ;   1245

Dearest sweetheart –

In writing you yesterday, I forgot to thank you for the package you sent me. I got it late yesterday afternoon and in excellent condition. I re-read the letter you sent me the day you finally sent it off and got another laugh. Couldn’t you get a larger bottle for the hair tonic, darling? You are either counting on a long war or you figure there’s still a chance. At any rate, dear, I shall find good use for it. The candy was perfect and I’m still enjoying it.

I’ve just had lunch. I have to be at the Dispensary in one hour and I’ll be busy most of the afternoon thereafter – so I thought I’d start writing you now. There was no mail yesterday – but that cablegram sure took the sting out of waiting – and now I’ve changed from a state of anxiety to one of pleasant curiosity. I’m still a little in a fog when I stop to realize what has happened or is happening to both of us – but it’s such a pleasant fog, darling. I hope your folks are genuinely convinced that it wasn’t the wrong decision to make. I feel that it wasn’t and I know you do. The rest is up to us – and we won’t let them down.

In one of your letters I received several days ago, darling, you tell me you’ve stored up a great deal of love for me. Well – that’s what I’m doing with my love for you, dear, storing it. That’s all we can do with our love – now, but I know it will be worth it. Just when I was getting so I could say nice things to you – I had to leave. You know, dear – I did tell you that it had always been rather difficult for me to sound affectionate etc. I was learning fast though. I don’t think it will take me long to pick up where I left off. You’ll be the judge of course – sweetheart – that is – if you’re still conscious when I’m through – and I’ll always be in love with you, too, dear – because I’m like my father a great deal and I know you’re aware of how much he’s still in love with my mother. It’s a wonderful example of what love should really be, dear, and I’ve had a good opportunity all my life to observe it.

You mentioned making a pair of socks for Mr. Clark. My own socks are in my trunk, dear. I’ve been reluctant to wear them very often because things get lost so darn easily in the Army – and I would like to bring them back with me for sentimental reasons.

In regards to Jane Austin’s works – for the time being, at any rate, I won’t be able to do very much. Where we’re situated now – it is out of the question altogether. I guess the only place you could find something well-bound would be in London – and my chances of getting back to visit there are appearing slimmer daily. But I’ll keep it in mind and might come across it some day by accident.

Darling – that’s all for now. I’ve got to go along. I hope to hear from you again soon, but I don’t mind waiting so much – now. Best regards home, dear and for the time being

My sincerest love –

Greg.

05 April, 1944

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 578 % Postmaster, N.Y.

England

5 April, 1944        1045

My own darling –

I wrote your folks last night after receiving your Dad’s cablegram. What can I say to you sweetheart, that I didn’t say to them? Darling – after reading the message over and over – I was left in a fog, a happy one. I was so thrilled I couldn’t collect my thoughts for a couple of hours afterwards. I realized that what I had hoped for so much – was actually going to happen – and I just can’t believe I’m fortunate enough to have that happen to me. When I can officially call you my fiancée – matters very little. The point is that your folks have given us their blessing and that was all that was needed to complete the picture. I was really concerned about the delay in hearing from them until I realized through your more recent letters that they didn’t hear from me as soon as they should have. Anyway, Sweetheart – every thing is wonderful now and it will take me a little while yet to let everything sink in. I’ve never felt like this before. I’m aware of what it means, though, dearest. I have a real honest-to-goodness responsibility – one that serves as my goal – and I know I’ll not let you down.

Meanwhile I have to sit on edge until more of the details trickle in. That’s where you have the advantage on me, sweetheart. You know what’s going on – just when it’s going on – and I have to imagine. But your own job wasn’t an easy one – and I shall ever be grateful to you, darling, for helping to steer us where we both wanted to go. I hope you’re as happy as I am and I wish it were possible to kiss and hug you the way you should be by me – but we’ll have our lives ahead of us to do that, darling, and I know now that you’re a good waiter.

Back here – there’s nothing new to report except as I wrote you before, it must be obvious to everyone that something big is in the wind soon. Just where we’ll fit into it is still a puzzle to me – which is as it should be, because if we knew it wouldn’t do us any good anyway. Anyway, darling, right now everything is going along smoothly. I’m getting plenty of rest and the right kind of exercise. In that connection – I remember writing yesterday that I would tell you about playing squash.

The school here has some excellent squash courts. I managed to be introduced to the Reverend of the school – a man of about 40. He has a lovely home in town. Yesterday we played squash – and incidentally, he trimmed me hands down. But we both got an excellent workout and we have an appointment to play again on Saturday next. I think I can beat him as soon as I get into shape again. I was short of breath yesterday from not having had any real exercise for a long time – such as long, hard kissing – which as you know, dear, develops the wind wonderfully.

Charlie and Pete, by the way, both of whom saw the cablegram last night – send their best wishes and good luck. They tell me I’m a complete “goner” – but I know they both think I’m very lucky.

I’ll have to stop writing now, dearest. I’m a very happy guy and I know you must feel the same way. I await further details anxiously. My love to your folks and best regards to the family. For now, sweetheart, so long and

All my love forever, darling

Greg.

04 April, 1944 (to her parents)

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 578 c/o Postmaster N.Y.

England

4 April 1944

Dear Folks –

A short time ago I received your Cablegram. It had gone thru many diverse spots apparently before reaching me. I had no idea what the envelope contained – and when I opened it, I read the message twice before I realized its full meaning. I thereupon gave out a full-lunged whoop and explained to the fellows around me why I was so happy.

It seems like ages since I wrote you last telling you how I felt about Wil – and I wasn’t sure just how you would take it. The past few weeks have been uneasy ones for me for just that reason. It’s pretty difficult to convey by letter the emotion expressed in a firm shaking of the hand and a kiss – things I would like to do were I around. I can say only that you have made me infinitely more happy than I can ever remember being before. I admire your understanding, and trust in me, and I promise to do what is in my power now and in the future to make Wilma happy and therefore you, too, I know.

Needless to say, you know how my folks feel about Wilma. They truly love her and I know she’s very fond of them. I’m certain that when I return everything will work out well and that we’ll all make up for lost time. I was very fond of you both before I left. Perhaps I wasn’t very demonstrative. I guess I’m slow in that respect but on the other hand, I don’t think I’m very flighty – and when I get to love someone I do so sincerely.

I’m still a little awhirl as a result of the cablegram, but I am fully aware of what it means and the responsibility that goes with it. You’ve made me very happy and I hope to be able to make you so too. For now – so long and love to Wilma.

Love

Greg.

The long-awaited cablegram!

CLICK ON CABLEGRAM TO ENLARGE

04 April, 1944

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 578 % Postmaster, N.Y.

England

4 April, 1944         1115

My dearest darling -

Right now Charlie and I are goldbricking. We’re back in our room and ordinarily it’s rather early in the day to be back here. But we finished our work and didn’t have very much ambition – so we headed back to the Castle. It’s a fine sunny day and frankly, dear, I’m lazy. Incidentally – when I read some of your letters about your getting up at such and such an hour – late morning or even early afternoon – I wince, but I don’t blame you because among other things, it must help shorten the day considerably.

Yesterday, darling, I hit another Bonanza and got five letters from you from around the 17th, 19th, 16th etc. of March and one actually from the 21st. I underline “actually” because as you’ve already noted – I received an earlier letter already dated the 21st.

What distresses me mostly in the last few days’ mail, dear, is that apparently up to the 21st you still weren’t sure how I feel about an engagement – or a ring; and also – that apparently your folks had not yet heard from me. I’ve lost track of the date when I wrote both your folks and you about how I felt – and I can’t remember whether it was after my leave or not – but gee – it seems like a long time ago. Maybe it’s because we’ve moved in the interim and our last spot already seems far away in point of time. I’m sure, though, that by now, sweetheart, how I feel must be clear to you all – and I’m just waiting to hear. You even mention a letter of your mother’s written January 25th. That particular letter didn’t get to me for a long time – for some reason or other and then I wrote and explained. Apparently, dear, a whole bunch of our mail from the middle of March – was delayed, because some of the other fellows have had mail from home complaining of the delay.

I was glad to read you had visited the Gardner home. It’s been years since I went through it – but I remember how impressed I was at the time. Seeing things like that – as we have been able to do here in England – takes you out of the ordinary world, temporarily, true – but nevertheless long enough to let you know that something like that does exist.

I enjoyed your description of taking care of Charlotte’s baby and your vision of riding home to visit our folks with our son. And who in the world, dear, guaranteed you a son? Not that I don’t want one. The Lord knows I’d like nothing better – but there are girls, too, don’t forget. It won’t make much difference, though – as long as we have a family – and on that score – I certainly let my dreams carry me off, dear.

You wrote me a very sweet V-mail on the Ides of March, darling, which I enjoyed very much. It had such a pleasant thought – but we’d better get together – because my heart is with you in Newton, and if yours is here in England – we’re missing the boat. No doubt they meet somewhere midway across.

And what in the world I’m going to do with a salami in Walter Raleigh’s Castle – I don’t know. Anyway it was something different and when it comes – I’ll write a thanks to Stan.

Darling – I’ll close for now. I’m going to play squash this p.m. I’ll tell you how I arranged it – tomorrow. Sweetheart I love you and miss you – the way you do me – and there’s only one thing I have in mind always – to get home and marry you – quickly! My love to your folks and the family in general.

All my love for now, dear

Greg

* TIDBIT *

about Isabella Stewart Gardner
and her Museum


Isabella Stewart Gardner
by John Singer Sargent (1888)

Greg was glad that Wilma had visited the "Gardner House', now known as the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum. Isabella was born the daughter of David Stewart, a business owner from New York and Adelia Smith. She married a wealthy Boston financier John Lowell Gardner in 1860 at the age of twenty. Everyone called him Jack, and everyone called her Mrs. Jack. According to excerpts from the Gardner Museum web site:

The Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum is at once an intimate collection of fine and decorative art and a vibrant, innovative venue for contemporary artists, musicians and scholars. Housed in a stunning 15th-century Venetian-style palace with three stories of galleries surrounding a sun- and flower-filled courtyard, the museum provides an unusual backdrop for the viewing of art.

CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE

The Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum

The Gardner opened to the public on the evening of January 1st, 1903. It is the only private art collection in which the building, collection and installations are the creation of one individual. Isabella Stewart Gardner's vision that the museum remain as she arranged it "for the education and enrichment of the public forever" is reflected in every aspect of the museum. Although she conceived of the museum and amassed her collection with her husband, he died before it was built. Its preeminent collection contains more than 2,500 paintings, sculptures, tapestries, furniture, manuscripts, rare books and decorative arts. The galleries house works by some of the most recognized artists in the world, including Titian, Rembrandt, Michelangelo, Raphael, Botticelli, Manet, Degas, Whistler and Sargent.

Setting her sights on the Fenway, a formerly marshy area that had recently been filled, in 1898 she purchased a plot of land on which to build her museum. Architect Willard T. Sears drew up plans and construction of Fenway Court, as it was originally called, began in June of 1899. Mrs. Jack attended the driving of the first pile and visited the construction site regularly, carefully supervising every detail of the building. She climbed ladders to show painters the effect she sought for the interior courtyard and determined the placement of each architectural element. The building was complete by November 1901, and Mrs. Jack spent the following year carefully installing her collection. Gardner herself lived in an apartment on the fourth floor.

Mrs. Jack disliked the cold, mausoleum-like spaces of most American museums of the period. As a result, she designed Fenway Court around a central courtyard filled with flowers. Light enters the galleries from the courtyard and from exterior windows, creating an atmospheric setting for works of art. Love of art, not knowledge about the history of art, was her aim. Her friends noted that the entire museum was a work of art in itself. Individual objects became part of a rich, complex and intensely personal setting.

The art of landscape has always been central to the Gardner Museum. Mrs. Jack was an avid gardener, and created theme gardens—an Italian garden and a Japanese garden—at her summer house in Brookline, Massachusetts. In keeping with her passion for horticulture and garden design, the museum’s interior courtyard is an astonishing work of art, combining plants, sculpture, and architectural elements.

Today her legacy continues as this lush central courtyard is regularly transformed with new plants and colors in nine dramatic seasonal displays, including the beloved Hanging Nasturtiums display each April. The unique interplay between the courtyard and the museum galleries offers visitors a fresh view of the courtyard from almost every room, inviting connections between art and landscape.

On the morning of March 18, 1990, thieves disguised as police officers broke into the museum and stole thirteen works of art, including a painting by Vermeer (The Concert) and three Rembrandts (two paintings, including his only seascape The Storm on the Sea of Galilee, and a small self-portrait print) as well as works by Manet, Degas, Govaert Flinck, and a French and a Chinese artifact. It is considered the biggest art theft in US history and remains unsolved. The museum still displays the paintings' empty frames in their original locations due to the strict provisions of Gardner's will, which instructed that the collection be maintained unchanged.

Examples of the nine seasonal courtyard displays can be seen in the following pictures. Wilma, no doubt, enjoyed the nastertiums.

CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE

April
Nastertium


May-June
Spring Blooms


June-July
Summers Blues


August-September
Bellflowers


September-October
Grasses and Berries


October-November
Chrysanthemums


December
Holiday Garden


January-February
Midwinter Tropics


February-March
Orchids and Bromeliads