Day 164: When I was very young, it was my mother's custom each Spring to pick one flower of our native Skunk Cabbage to be brought indoors. Its pungent odor (that which gives rise to its name) would permeate the house for several days. Although I don't observe the custom in my own home, the scent of a Skunk Cabbage bog brings with it a number of fond reminiscences, not the least of which was my mother's independent, nonconformist character. As a symbol, it is my opinion that a person could have worse.
I've always maintained that the smell of skunk on cold morning air is the essence of wildness, and is invigorating. Your mother was on to something good!
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