Students' Centennial Garden
A beautiful new garden is blooming behind Warren Hall and the Mann Library addition. Under the guidance of professors Peter Trowbridge and Nina Bassuk, landscape architecture and horticulture students in this year's Creating the Urban Eden course are designing and installing the new public space in a neglected triangular area formed when Mann's new building was completed four years ago. Collaborating with the students is sculptor Rebecca Thompson (MFA '03), who has created stone benches and trellis sculptures for the garden that incorporate architectural remnants from original buildings on the Ag Quad.
Complementing both the adjoining Deans' Garden behind Warren Hall and the McGregor Arcade behind the Mann addition, the new garden is named the Centennial Students' Garden. It will serve to commemorate not only the CALS centennial, but also the students' role in creating the garden and the rich contributions of many generations of CALS students.
This new space, made possible by a generous pledge by CALS alumnus John Dyson '65, is filled with a variety of plants selected both for their beauty in a shady spot and their usefulness as teaching specimens for future classes. This includes trees like magnolia and Japanese maple, shrubs such as Virginia sweetspire and dogwood, and groundcovers like hosta (four different kinds) and Canby's mountain-lover. The garden will also serve as a compost research site, where organic waste from places such as campus dining facilities will be tested as soil-improving agents.
A Tradition of Discovery at CALS
Teaching, research, and extension in the life sciences have had a long, distinguished history at the College of Agriculture and Life Sciences (CALS) at Cornell, dating back to the university's founding in 1868.
Throughout the years, CALS researchers have probed and investigated genetic functions in plants and animals, making genetic breakthroughs that form the bedrock of genomic research today.
The following timeline highlights some milestones of CALS as it develops into a premier institution for biological research in the 21st century.
McClintock at work.
Here is an excerpt from the book:
So bountiful hath been the earth and so securely have we drawn from it our sustenance, that we have taken it all for granted as if it were only a gift, and with little care or conscious thought of the consequences of our use of it; nor have we very much considered the essential relation that we bear to it as living parts in the vast creation.
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It is good to think of ourselves-of this teeming, tense, and aspiring human race-as a helpful and contributing part in the plan of a cosmos, and as participators in some far-reaching destiny. The idea of responsibility is much asserted of late, but we relate it mostly to the attitude of persons in the realm of conventional conduct, which we have come to regard as very exclusively in the realm of morals; and we have established certain formalities that satisfy the conscience. But there is some deeper relation than all this, which we must recognize and the consequences of which we must practice. There is a directer and more personal obligation than that which expends itself in loyalty to the manifold organizations and social requirements of the present day. There is a more fundamental cooperation in the scheme of things than that which deals with the proprieties or which centers about the selfishness too often expressed in the salvation of one's soul.
We can only be onlookers on that part of the cosmos that we call the far heavens, but it is possible to cooperate in the processes on the surface of the sphere. This cooperation may be conscious and definite, and also useful to the earth; that is, it may be real. What means this contact with our natural situation, this relationship to the earth to which we are born, and what signify this new exploration and conquest of the planet and these accumulating prophecies of science? Does the mothership of the earth have any real meaning to us?
All this does not imply a relation only with material and physical things, nor any effort to substitute a nature religion. Our relation to the planet must be raised into the realm of spirit; we cannot be fully useful otherwise. We must find a way to maintain the emotions in the abounding commercial civilization. There are two kinds of materials-those of the native earth and the idols of one's hands. The latter are much in evidence in modern life, with the conquests of engineering, mechanics, architecture, and all the rest. We visualize them everywhere, and particularly in the great centers of population. The tendency is to be removed farther and farther from the everlasting backgrounds. Our religion is detached.
We come out of the earth and we have a right to the use of the materials; and there is no danger of crass materialism if we recognize the original materials as divine and if we understand our proper relation to the creation, for then will gross selfishness in the use of them be removed. This will necessarily mean a better conception of property and of one's obligation in the use of it. We shall conceive of the earth, which is the common habitation, as inviolable. One does not act rightly toward one's fellows if one does not know how to act rightly toward the earth.
Nor does this close regard for the mother earth imply any loss of mysticism or of exaltation: quite the contrary. Science but increases the mystery of the unknown and enlarges the boundaries of the spiritual vision. To feel that one is a useful and cooperating part in nature is to give kinship, and to open the mind to the great resources and the high enthusiasms. Here arise the fundamental common relations. Here arise also the great emotions and conceptions of sublimity and grandeur, of majesty and awe, the uplift of vast desires-when one contemplates the earth and the universe and desires to take them into the soul and to express oneself in their term; and here also the responsible practices of life take root.
So much are we now involved in the problems of human groups, so persistent are the portrayals of our social afflictions, and so well do we magnify our woes by insisting on them, so much in sheer weariness do we provide antidotes to soothe our feelings and to cause us to forget by means of many empty diversions, that we may neglect to express ourselves in simple free personal joy and to separate the obligation of the individual from the irresponsibilities of the mass.
A reprint of The Holy Earth is available for purchase for $6.65, plus $5.00 shipping and handling per order (New York State residents add 8.25% sales tax) from:

Resource Center,
Cornell University,
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Ithaca, NY 14852-3884
Web: The Cornell Store
Phone: 607-255-2080;
Fax: 607-255-9946
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