Can’t you smell that smell?
Who stashed a dead body under the deck? I confess, it was me. Not a body, the ghastly stench is from Amorphophallus konjac, cousin to the Amorphophallus titanium that is said to be the world’s largest flower, and certainly the smelliest.
The lovely scent is reminiscent of rotting flesh, thus the call from my wife today wondering what I’d killed. Just like me, kill something, then hide it in an out-of-the-way place, like under the deck.
There’s a small colony growing just off the corner of the deck , unfortunately beneath a large Nandina, so you have to look hard to find it. I’ve planted amorphophallus and the similar and equally revolting Sauromatum venosum in spots that I don’t recall through the garden. They grow, then disappear at various times, and usually I’m only aware of them when they stink.
Good fortune or not, the fragrance of Ivory Silk lilac is mere feet away. Walk here, sweetness, a few paces away, nausea. Why would someone plant something that smells so awful? It confounds me.
There are other plants in the garden that don’t attract flies. By week’s end the Japanese iris should be in full blossom planted around the edges of the large swimming pond. There could be a hundred or more flowers of four or five varieties blooming at once. Certainly worth a return visit.
In past weeks I’ve mentioned my aversion to roses that require care of any sort, yet the entry to my drive would give thought that a collector resides therein. Red Knockout rose gives way to red Flower Carpet, then a rose (above), whose name I have forgotten and perhaps never knew, which was supposed to be a worthy successor to the somewhat low care Nearly Wild rose but didn’t make its name with so many superior low care introductions. Still, quite nice.
This midweek snippet of the garden will end with the variegated forget-me-not, Brunnera (above). For whatever reason, I had for years considered that this plant was finicky, but whether by beginner’s luck or other accident, mine has grown exceptionally well in this spot wedged between a small creek I have constructed and Sarcococa humilis and Hake grass. Silver, gold, and a rich green seems an odd combination, but it works well for this color blind gardener.
As sensory handicaps go, today would have been better without the sense of smell.