Rank beef smells hung in the chilled air. Pale green fern fronds curled tight over the melting snow. Fleshy petals the color of drying blood glistened under the tree canopy. There was a tense quiet except for pencil scratching and the soft buzzing of flies. Opal tossed down her pencil.

“It’s a spit in the face. You know this skunk cabbage is a stinking liar. I hate tricksters. Making flies believe they are in for a meal, when the cabbage just wants to pollenize ,” Opal said.

“Pollinate, dear,” Miss Hepplewhite said without glancing at her young pupil.

🧑‍🎓

Her pencil caressing a gentle curve, Miss Hepplewhite focused on the skunk cabbage blossom. Glaring, Opal kicked a clump of snow. Crystals flew against the air. Opal stared at her own lumpy drawing and then at her mud-covered boots. Miss Hepplewhite continued to draw.

“It’s true. My Uncle George brought me to the herbarium and I learned all about it ,” Opal said.

Pencil poised, Miss Hepplewhite paused. Her brow creased. She went back to drawing. Sighing Opal slumped on her little camping stool.

“Well, Miss Hepplewhite? What do you think?”

For a few more minutes, the governess continued to draw. Stopping she looked from the triumphant blossom to her sketchpad and back. Next she reached for Opal’s drawing and studied it.

“I think you’re ill at ease with the imminent arrival of your brother from boarding school and that you have a natural affinity for science. Opal

I won’t question your righteous anger, dear. In a world of butterflies and roses I see flies in nectar; I see beauty in surviving,” Miss Hepplewhite said. “Now let’s work on strengthening the line on this drawing.”