2IO THE BROOK BOOK 



Centigrade. When I saw that the thermometer 

 spoke in an unknown tongue, my respect for the 

 young woman rose still higher, and I almost dared 

 ask her to tell me how to reduce it to the Fahren- 

 heit scale. 



"I thought when I first noticed those holes 

 in the snow that the skunk cabbages must be at 

 work and generating enough heat to melt the 

 snow around them," she said. "Now I'm sure of 

 it. I've visited this place every day for a week, 

 and my record shows that the plant not only 

 keeps from freezing, but is able to melt out a 

 breathing hole for itself besides." 



I like hardy folk — people who can generate 

 their own fires and do work in spite of every- 

 thing. Skunk cabbage is just such a sturdy citi- 

 zen. It has many good points. Even its odor is 

 not offensive, strictly speaking; it is rather de- 

 fensive. You must not meddle with busy people 

 who have important things to do, or you may get 

 an unpleasant rebuff. I really enjoy a little of the 

 skunk cabbage odor — its high, aromatic, piercing 

 quality is not unsuited to so determined a char- 

 acter. The trouble comes when you get too much 

 of it — like too much of any other good thing. 



Among the many hearty appreciations of this 

 interesting plant that I have read, there is one 

 feature which I do not recall ever to have seen 

 mentioned. I refer to the aspect of the whole 

 plant when uprooted in September. I happened 

 to notice this last fall, when a farmer neighbor 



