PITTSFIELD, Mass. — Beth Fuller Putnam, 72, died on August 6, 2026. 

But that sentence tells you almost nothing about her, so here's what does.

You could usually hear Bethie before you saw her — tapping along with her walking stick, her loud and unmistakable laugh, or some commentary- the kind that turned heads in restaurants and made strangers smile without knowing why. It was the sound of someone who was curious and  found the world ridiculous and worth showing up for, fully, every single day. She was bubbly, ebullient, and whimsical. 

She worked like nothing was beneath her. No job was too big or too small for Beth. She loved to please people and she brought the same ferocious effort to everything she touched, whether it was her twenty plus year career as the Innkeeper at The Old Inn on The Green + Gedney Farm-  and turning it into a world class wedding destination at her helm, reinvigorating The Red Lion Inn as the Assistant General Manager, or a Halloween costume she was hand-sewing at midnight. She was, by every account, the hardest worker in any room. If it needed to get done, she got it done. But Beth's career and work accomplishments were the least interesting thing about her storied life. So let us tell you about who she was. Her favorite color was purple. Her favorite meal was fried full belly clams and lobster and a late August heirloom tomato. Martha's Vineyard was her happy place. She loved show tunes, and she could drink you under the table.

She had no filter, and you were always grateful for it. Beth said what she meant. She'd tell you outright, usually while also telling you exactly what she thought you should be doing differently with your life. Her directness wasn't sharp for the sake of being sharp; it came from a place of loving people so completely that pretending felt like a waste of time. People who knew Beth knew where they stood with her, and there was something deeply comforting in that. Bethie didn't sugar coat anything, and she wouldn't expect you to either. You may have seen her at the farmers market cooler hopping and yapping with the vendors, or protesting Monsanto on the streets of Pittsfield. Her authenticity and radiant smile were disarming and you couldn't stay mad at her for too long if she pissed you off.

She was very practical and offered life facts to her daughters that include "corn on the cob is done when it smells like corn", and "always maintain your own bank account". She raised strong women and taught us to question everything.

She was an expert skier who taught many children of Berkshire County how to ski as an instructor at Butternut (french fries, not pizza!). She was a lifelong devoted Special Olympics volunteer. She was an extraordinary dancer who enchanted everyone who got to watch her. She lived in her body with the same boldness she lived in conversation.

Beth's hands had magic in them. She was a master gardener who knew and understood the land and tended to it generously. She grew food for her family, and filled her home with copious species of plants and flowers. She taught herself to knit and enjoyed making gifts for her loved ones. She braided our hair perfectly and her handwriting was always in cursive script and floated across a page. Those hands cooked elaborate and delicious meals that so many of us were lucky enough to enjoy. 

She remembered what mattered to you. Beth kept notes — little scraps and lists tucked everywhere — of the details of the people she loved. Your favorite obscure vegetable. Your boyfriend's last name (who you hadn't yet told her about but somehow she knew). Something you'd mentioned, once, in passing, that you liked. She'd bring it up months later like she'd never forgotten, because she hadn't. It was how she loved people: by paying closer attention than anyone else bothered to.

She was resilient in a way that shaped everyone around her. There was no doubt Beth was complex, and she struggled. Even in the face of hardship though, she was so strong and deeply brave in a way that wasn't loud about itself. She was so stoic. Anyone who watched her move through challenges came away with a slightly different idea of what a person could survive, and survive well. She never complained- even, and especially, when her life and her body got difficult to live in. She was wildly independent, rarely asked for help, and was stubborn as hell. Beth did things on her terms, in her way, until the very end. Her legacy is sewn into the fabric of The Berkshires forever–in  the land, the establishments, the people.

Her last years were devoted to sharing her botanic knowledge and supporting local farming initiatives and increasing access to quality organic food to our communities. She was a beloved CSA volunteer at Holiday Brook Farm, a position she held with enormous pride.

Beth once said she'd come back after she transitioned as peonies, antilbes, and as autumn asters — so if you find yourself stopped in front of one, take a moment to feel her, and breathe in her spirit. 

She is survived by daughters MacKenzie “MK” Mullen, and Kelsey Mullen, her sister Holly A. Murray who was her kindred spirit, as well as her soulmate and lifelong companion James A Mullen.

Those who loved her — and there were many — will miss her desperately. As Bethie used to lovingly sign off her messages “so there you go”.

A celebration of life will be held in her honor at Holiday Brook Farm for her farm community on Tuesday August 25th from 4-6pm and the family will be hosting those who want to remember Bethie on Sunday August 30, 2026  from 1-5 PM at 270 Old North Road New Marlborough MA 01230.