by Carlene Phillips ·
Friday, March 6, 2026
When visual storyteller Ellen Harasimowicz was photographing the four primary orchards in Harvard owned and managed by women, she had no idea that the United Nations would declare 2026 the International Year of the Woman Farmer. But learning that inspired her to have an exhibit at Fivesparks this year. That exhibit opened Feb. 28 and will be up until April 11. Harasimowicz and the orchardists will speak at an opening reception March 8 from 3 to 5 p.m.
Orchard Women of Harvard features Pam Lawson of Doe Orchards, Stephanie Green O’Keefe of Westward Orchards, Katie Carlson of Carlson Orchards, and Linda Hoffman of Old Frog Pond Farm. Their orchards are captured in Harasimowicz’s photos and also through Hoffman’s visual art, Lawson’s poetry, and essays by Carlson and O’Keefe about the history of their orchards and how they grew up in them and came back to the family business. Harasimowicz said she wanted to share the experience of being in these orchards, and for her, the exhibit is an “expression of gratitude to these women who work so hard to provide fruits and vegetables for us.”
In a recent conversation at the Fivesparks gallery, Harasimowicz described how the exhibit came about. She said after finishing her project at Willard Farm, she had been working in the orchards, “seeing the poetry around me” and being with the women. She would print the images and study them, “looking to see what they’re telling me.” Then, two years ago, she took a class called “Female Perspectives on Visual Storytelling” with Sarah Leen, former director of photography at National Geographic. And suddenly she knew what her photos were “telling” her—“I can concentrate on the women.” She believes that “Both the women and their trees embody beauty, resilience, and hope while providing rootedness and nourishment for their community.”
Spread across Fivesparks’ north wall are five black-and-white photos of apple trees in winter, which Harasimowicz said she took at Carlson’s as she walked down a single path. All are similar, graceful yet sturdy, but each one is unique. Below these on the shelf is a series of small lucite frames, each encasing a single, perfect fruit. Harasimowicz said she wanted to show the beauty of each and how “precious” they are, how in need of protection. Harasimowicz said one of Leen’s statements that speaks loudly to her is, “Beauty is a tool to get people to care.”
The exhibit is divided into four parts. In addition to a posed photograph of each woman, Harasimowicz chose pictures from each orchard that reflect what she sees as the feminine aspect of the trees as well as the challenges and hard work the women face. The photographs have no titles as yet—but instead have the name of the orchard and a number.
On the left, the Carlson Orchards section starts out with a profile of a very pregnant Katie Carlson. She writes in her essay, “I can’t drive out to look at something in the orchard without coming back with whatever is in season, and I hope my little boy Roy will feel the same way.” Carlson 3 shows a tree loaded with cherries covered in white netting to keep the birds away. Harsasimowicz suggests the netting looks like a veil, and a soft draping furthers the idea of femininity. Two sturdy planks of wood hold the netting in place.
Carlson 5 is a juxtaposition of a rusting metal tool on a hook above a box of lush apples, one separate from the rest, peeking out through one of the slats. The photo makes the viewer wonder what that tool is for and why it’s hanging over the vulnerable apples. Harasimowicz said she counts as a success any photo that is “unexpected” and raises questions for the viewer. Number 6 is the Cider Barn, which Harasimowicz wanted to document to show how the farm expanded to a new industry.
Continuing on the west wall, the first picture of Old Frog Pond Farm is of Linda Hoffman high in the branches of an apple tree, pruners in her red-gloved hands. “Of course I had to have Linda in a tree,” said Harasimowicz, alluding to Hoffman’s love of trees: “I am in awe of how trees take care of one another. Despite the drought, habitat loss, and disregard by many people, trees respond by always giving, always growing as well as they can.” OFPF 2 is a close-up of the bark of an aging tree. The dark, ragged bark may look ugly, but on closer observation, one may find some beauty in feeling a connection to the aged trunk. Harasimowicz said she wants her photos to “go beyond the viewer’s eyes to reach the heart.”
A branch of apples coated in a white clay, which acts as a pesticide, illustrates that when, in 2001, Hoffman decided to bring her abandoned farm back to health, she did it organically. OFPF 5 shows apples rolling and splashing into water, getting rinsed before being turned into cider. “My images are quiet, peaceful, without chaos,” said Harasimowicz, but sometimes she wants to “surprise and show activity.” She calls OFPF 7 the Snow White apple. It’s a deep red and shows a large portion of flesh, having been pecked at by birds.
The photos on the right side of the north wall and onto the first part of the east are from Westward. The first one shows O’Keefe, who, with her brother Chris Green, is the fourth generation to own and operate the farm. She writes, “Farming truly is a labor of love.” Along with pick-your-own blueberries, apples, and pumpkins, the community-supported agriculture program is the farm’s main driver of business. O’Keefe writes that when she was little, she followed her father everywhere in the orchards; now she helps with the doughnuts, which a local radio broadcast has called “the best apple cider doughnuts west of Boston.” A photo shows her turned away from the camera, her braid curving down her back, wearing a colorful apron full of doughnuts.
A short tree, hunched over, thickly covered with green leaves, a skinny bare branch protruding from each side, Harasimowicz likened to “a little old lady.” Westward 6 shows a broken branch, hanging down between the tree trunk and a thick pole. A line of wizened red apples clings on determinedly, like beads of a necklace. Number 7 shows a tree after a “haircut” with the trimmings strewn on the ground, Chris Green’s house in the far background.
Doe Orchards is next, led by a posed photo of Lawson, dressed in work clothes, hat in hands, her braid a little messy. In Doe 3, fall peach leaves in shades of orange curl around to look like a fragile Christmas tree ornament. Frosted leaves make a pretty bed for fallen apples in Doe 4, but the frost is also a reminder of how vulnerable the orchards are to weather changes.
The last of Doe’s photos shows a group of young, full Christmas trees, reminding the viewer that another kind of product is raised here. Behind and above the trees is a line of bare, craggy apple trees, limbs outstretched, like wise old teachers nurturing the youngsters, suggested Harasimowicz.
Because she “couldn’t have a display of orchards without people in them,” Harasimowicz has a block of photos showing people of all ages and diverse races, obviously delighting in picking apples in a Harvard orchard.
Harasimowicz wanted the exhibit to be a collaboration with the voices of the other women. Hoffman has two large works of multimedia art in the gallery, one called “Tracks” and the other “Trees.” In the fireplace room are archival prints of landscapes, people, and animals from her travels.
Lawson, who has been an artist for a long time, has her work in the sitting room. Most of the pieces are photos that Lawson transferred onto squares of old linen she had dyed. She has painted over some parts of the photos and stitched around the edges to form a frame within a frame. Interspersed with the photos are original poems by Lawson, capturing different aspects of life on a farm. One begins with a cheerful description of blueberry pickers. Then comes an alert on a phone, followed by images of a storm and the fury it can bring before a return to the safety of the blueberry patch—a reminder of the orchard’s vulnerability and the constant threat of weather and economic issues for its orchardist.
A grant from the Harvard Cultural Council paid for the exhibit space.