EPISODE OF WILD PLANT KINGDOM

And now for an episode of Wild Plant Kingdom:
(Please read it in the voice of Marlin Perkins for full effect.)

Sal and I have been on the elusive trail of the Amorphophallus Titanum, also known as the Corpse Flower, a flower that we have been trailing for nearly a decade. This flower is unique in many ways because it only blooms every seven to ten years. Its blossom holds for about twenty-four hours (if we are lucky), and the bloom itself smells like dead animals and rotting human flesh.

Amorphophallus Titanum literaly means "misshapen giant penis." (I'm just going to leave that right here. It doesn't have anything to do with the rest of our report, but it is a fact that many women can attest to witnessing at least once in their lifetimes.)

We have attempted to smell the blossoming Corpse Flower before. Our travels have taken us numerous times to the Franklin Park Zoo in Boston, so many times, in fact, that we now know our way from the zoo to Yankee Lobster and the Harpoon Brewery without needing the expressway nor GPS. Despite going to the zoo every day for two straight weeks, the flower, aptly named Morticia, did a quick bloom in the searing heat and was quite done emitting her fragrance by the time we arrived hours later. These expeditions made us both great pals of the scientists in charge of the greenhouse and semi-experts in the life cycle of the misshapen giant penis flower.

While visiting Morticia, we also saw a small sprout of a Corpse Flower, a dinky little leafy plant named Fester. It is Fester that we have come to see today, and, despite our best efforts, we are almost too late. Fester has bloomed on a Sunday, so we rush in on Monday (at the mercy of Covid reservation times).

We are on complete autopilot as we sail through the Roxbury-Dorchester-Jamaica Plain triangle, arrive within five minutes of our required entrance time, and head almost directly to the flower. Sal is distracted while learning about the sex habits of two young giraffes from an overly-sharing park ranger. We make our way past the playground, along the kangaroos, and chat with the emu who follows our steps from its side of the fence.

Finally. Nirvana. We stand in a short line to get our chance to see and smell Fester.

It is not the absolute disgusting and hideous experience for which we have been hoping, and our years of quest seem for naught.  However, blessed be, if we stand at a certain angle, remove our Covid masks, use our hands to help swish the air forward, there is no doubt, no doubt at all, that we are smelling Fester's corpsey stench.

Yes, indeed, we came, we saw, we smelled, we conquered.

To be honest, though. Sal and I would love to see the bloom completely open and to be bowled over by the odor, so overcome in fact that we dry heave. Dry heaving over the Corpse Flower would be THE ultimate experience.

With that reality in mind, people, please keep us informed of any more Corpse Flowers you might hear about that are ready to bloom. Although this was a small conquest, we are still willing, sort of like King Henry VI, to go once more unto the stench, dear friends.