Botanical Hide and Seek: Charles Short and the Shortia Story

October 6, 1794

On this day, dear readers, we celebrate the birth of a true luminary in the world of botany and medicine, Charles Wilkins Short.

A son of Kentucky, Short would go on to leave an indelible mark on the botanical landscape, both figuratively and quite literally.

In 1833, our esteemed doctor penned a flora of Kentucky, a testament to his dedication to his home state's verdant bounty. But it was his private herbarium that truly set tongues wagging in botanical circles.

Picture, if you will, a collection of 15,000 plant samples, each meticulously preserved and cataloged. It was a treasure trove that would make even the most seasoned plant hunter green with envy.

And let us not forget Short's garden! Oh, what a sight it must have been! Spanning several acres, it was less a garden and more a botanical wonderland, where rare specimens rubbed leaves with common flora in a horticultural ballet of epic proportions.

Such was Short's contribution to botany that he was honored in the naming of many plants. But none would capture the imagination quite like the Oconee bell, christened Shortia galacifolia.

Little did Short know that this diminutive plant would become the botanical equivalent of a will-o'-the-wisp, leading botanists on a merry chase through the wilds of North America.

Alas, fate can be a cruel mistress. In 1863, Charles Short departed this mortal coil, his namesake plant still playing hide and seek with the botanical community. One can only imagine the frustration he must have felt, knowing a plant bore his name yet remained stubbornly elusive.

But dear readers, our tale does not end there! For in May of 1877, a North Carolina lad named George Hyams, barely more than a stripling, sent an unknown specimen to none other than Harvard's botanical eminence, Asa Gray. Picture, if you will, the venerable Gray, his eyes widening in recognition, a cry of "Eureka!" escaping his lips as he beheld the long-lost Shortia.

Yet the drama was not complete. Two years hence, a veritable who's who of the botanical world embarked on an expedition that would make the quest for the Holy Grail seem like a stroll in the park.

Asa Gray and his wife, joined by the esteemed botanist John Redfield, the director of the Arnold Arboretum Charles Sprague Sargent, and the botanist William Canby, ventured forth to witness the Shortia in its natural habitat.

Imagine the scene: these titans of botany, huddled around a modest patch of earth, their eyes fixed upon the unassuming Shortia, growing in blissful ignorance of its celebrity status.

In that moment, the long and arduous search for the plant named in honor of Charles Wilkins Short came to its triumphant conclusion.

As we tend to our own gardens, let us remember Charles Wilkins Short and the Shortia.

May their tale inspire us to look beyond the obvious, to seek out the rare and beautiful in nature, and to never underestimate the power of persistence in the face of botanical mystery.