214 THE BROOK BOOK 



I venture to look back over the way I had come, 

 or to consider the why and wherefore of this new 

 acquaintance. It was a complete and finished 

 brook, — waterfall, current, and shelving banks, — 

 all were there. For a while I marveled, and 

 even considered the possibility of climbing a slip- 

 pery bank in search for the source of this new- 

 made stream. The way looked too difficult and 

 my own path too alluring, and I decided to save 

 this for another trip. Imagine my feelings when, 

 a few days later, I found out that my wonderful 

 new discovery was identical with the angry little 

 torrent which rushed from under a huge snow- 

 bank back of my neighbor's house ! 



Leaving the brook to its own devices I followed 

 my chosen path. It led me past a squdgy, 

 springy place on the hillside. From below I 

 could see nothing but a forest of tall horsetail 

 where last May had been a solid mass of skunk 

 cabbage. The horsetail had been there too, but 

 had been overshadowed by the rank growth of 

 the broad-leaved plant. Since late summer the 

 "scouring rush" had reasserted itself, and for what 

 I could see now reigned supreme. On closer in- 

 vestigation I found the spaces between the slen- 

 der rushes crowded full of skunk cabbage hoods. 

 They were in all sorts of attitudes, some with 

 their long pointed hoods drawn down over their 

 heads, completely closing the opening. Others, 

 with heads thrown back, were wide open, the 

 rounded flower cluster plainly disclosed. Tightly 

 wrapped bundles of green leaves were just be- 



