First Day Of Skunk Cabbage

Day 150: I thought I knew what day today might be, but in order to confirm my hypothesis, I needed to make a serious Trip Out to visit Ma Nature. Only her phenological calendar could show it for sure. Still, I have been having a run of bad luck/unpleasant events lately, and because I also had in mind a more adventuresome outing than a visit to the bog (American usage, please!), I was a little apprehensive. Would I wind up hurting myself to cap off the series? Or could I possibly break the run by doing something fun and exciting? I was deliberating as I stepped out on the front porch to feel the temperature, and Pacific Wren's long, burbling song came to my ears from the brush pile. That clinched it. Pacific Wren is a trusted advisor, and he had just indicated to me that I needed to spend some time in his woods. I came in and immediately started packing my pack.

I saw no Skunk Cabbage as I drove over the Divide, nothing in any of the usual swampy areas. Maybe I was on a wild skunk chase after all? But as I approached my "best bog" on the South Swofford Trail, I saw a spot of yellow and, minding my footing in the mud as I got closer, a shaft of sunlight fell on a pristine example of my mother's favourite flower. It was indeed the First Day of Skunk Cabbage, a day almost as important to me as September Morn.

Then I started up the hill toward Sulphur Creek Falls. I had archived my last geocache and needed to pull the container. Over the last several years, both natural and human-caused erosion have made this trek even more perilous than before, the "trail" (such as it is, made by deer and elk) crossed by numerous fallen trees and, in the steeper sections, landslides. In fact, I found the cache almost buried by the huge root mass of a tree which had slid down the embankment. I was able to retrieve the container, but only barely.

I made my way back down without incident and then continued on out the South Swofford Trail nearly to its end, where I sat on the corner of a bridge in the company of one small Skunk Cabbage blossom and a horde of Blue Duns (well, that's what we call them in fly-fishing). Then it was back to the car and home, where yet another catastrophe appeared to loom into view, but thanks to Kevin's internet skills, I was able to restore my computer's health by blowing the dust out of the transformer plug. Have I gotten around Murphy's plans for my future? I hope so.