Looking For Skunk Cabbage In The Snow

Skunk Cabbage flower

Winter came back on the third day of spring.  I’m on my way to see skunk cabbage in the snow.

I wonder if this time, this crossover, between winter and spring isn’t like the time between waking and sleeping. When  the conscious and subconscious collide. When  dreams and reality are indistinguishable from each other.

It’s  cold enough for me to wish I had worn my mittens, which I haven’t worn all winter.

The sun comes out as we pass the old barn foundation it warms my face as a shiver runs up and down my arms.  

The wind sprinkles snow from the pines like confectioners sugar through a sifter.  Fairy-dust in the sunlight.


The seed ball inside the flower

I find the skunk cabbage in the swamp.  Little snow covered amphitheaters popping up through the ice. Their seed ball cradled safely  within.

The more I look, the more appear.
Some are all but buried in snow.  

Skunk Cabbage cover in snow

We head back and the ravens circle playfully above.  They dance  between the bare branches of winters, spring trees.

There are two of them. Big and glistening, shiny black. One calls out thick and gutsy. Less a sound,  than more a deep knowing in my gut.

Almost home, I blow a kiss to the mother tree on the edge of the shallow pond.  For a moment the sun comes out and lights up the long oval hole high up on her trunk.

I feel like she is saying hello back to me. 

Fate and Zinnia coming home from our walk in the woods

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