On a recent sunny Thursday, making use of a vacation day and finding myself out in the suburbs on a bicycle, the landscape morphs from village gridlock, to leafy suburbia, to pastoral countryside, all in the town of Wellesley. Horses in a nearby field canter along of their own volition, apparently as pleased by the mid-70 degree sunshine and dry air as my wife and I are. Soon, we come upon the Elm Bank Reservation, where the Massachusetts Horticultural Society claims its home. An investigation of the gardens leads us to a mansion at the far end, which is falling into a state of disrepair, its windows and dormers appearing not to have seen a scraper or paint brush in decades. No sign betrays a hint of the structure’s history or current occupants, not even something vaguely aloof, like “Private Property.” A compact car of some humble make sits out front, decidedly unstately and yet at home before the mansion’s peeling paint and crumbling brickwork. One assumes the interior is no less decrepit. The Massachusetts Horticultural Society's website reveals tidbits more of the property’s history, but doesn’t say if descendants of the Cheney-Baltzell family are to blame for the building’s decay, dressing in ghoulish outfits and haunting the place like so many evil Scooby-Doo characters in order to scare off nearby tradespeople, who might otherwise be hired to give it a proper facelift.