Skunk Cabbage: Kennebunk, Maine, USA, March 2026 — Back in December, after our first snowfall, I was surprised to find Skunk Cabbage already up and poking through the thin snow cover in the little forest across the street from us along the tiny stream. Then came the heavy snows and intense cold of our winter this year, and I lost track of it. Going back to the forest here in late March, I find that there seem to be fewer Skunk Cabbage sprouts, and if the ones left are survivors, they have not grown a bit since I saw them last. Of course, it is possible that none of the early December crop survived and that what I am seeing now is a whole new crop. Having looked it up, I discover that Skunk Cabbage, unlike almost all plants, is “warm-blooded”. The Skunk Cabbage produces its own heat and has a body temperature that it maintains despite its surroundings. Getting buried in snow, it creates a melt zone around itself that acts as insulation in the same way as an igloo does, and it spends its winter safe in its own igloo, burning starch to stay warm. Isn’t that just too wonderful for words? I have always had a strange affinity for Skunk Cabbage, and now I know why. As one warm-bodied creature to another, I can identify. That and the amazing shapes and the intense color patterns. What is there not to like? (I guess I can forgive the smell. Some days I don’t smell so good myself.) Sony a6700. Sigma 16-300 at about 600mm equivalent field of view crop. Aperture program with macro modifications. Processed in Photomator.