Day 168: Every year, I have to get one "postcard" shot of Skunk Cabbage. This year's specimen comes from Eatonville, found alongside the Pack Forest extension of the Bud Blancher Trail. Surprisingly, the site isn't particularly boggy, but rather is in the gravelly bed of an intermittent stream. The plants aren't as large as those found in swampier areas, but nevertheless seem quite healthy.
My fondness for this showy Arum was certainly instilled at an early age. It was my mother's favourite flower. Every spring, she would pick one early blossom, setting it in a vase to infuse the air with its unmistakable odor, a scent many people find too "skunky" to bear. I do not find it offensive, although I will admit it is a learned tolerance. In fact, when I walk through a bog filled with Skunk Cabbages, the air I breathe seems clean above the musky note; purer, if odiferous. Nor is there any mistaking the visual freshness of a sea of chartreuse-green leaves and yellow spathes. For all of its scent, Skunk Cabbage is a merry plant, massed in shadowy forest bogs.
No comments:
Post a Comment