Uncle Skunk was my mother's favorite flower despite its strong scent. Its habit of appearing in swamplands associates it closely with frogs and tadpoles, both of which held places close to her heart. Each year, I begin watching for Uncle Skunk's emergence in early to mid-March, but almost without exception, some specimens can be found within a few days of equinox. It is then that memories of my mom run most strongly, as if in some way her spirit now resides contentedly with Uncle Skunk, watching new generations of frogs following on the heels of the old.
365Caws is now in its 14th year of publication, and was originally intended to end after 365 days. It has sometimes been difficult for me to find new material, particularly during the winter months, but now as I enter my own twilight years, I cannot guarantee that I will be able to provide daily posts. It is my hope that along the way I may have inspired someone to a greater curiosity about the natural world. If so, I can rest, content in the knowledge that my work here has been done.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Uncle Skunk
Uncle Skunk was my mother's favorite flower despite its strong scent. Its habit of appearing in swamplands associates it closely with frogs and tadpoles, both of which held places close to her heart. Each year, I begin watching for Uncle Skunk's emergence in early to mid-March, but almost without exception, some specimens can be found within a few days of equinox. It is then that memories of my mom run most strongly, as if in some way her spirit now resides contentedly with Uncle Skunk, watching new generations of frogs following on the heels of the old.
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