One of the first paintings I've done in 2025 is entitled "Corpse Flower with Guest". It's on par with my fascination for nature. It's posted here if you want to take a look. I took some artistic liberties as the painting is not to scale. If it were, the fly would be the size of an adult hand spread open.
I remember visiting a botanical garden many years ago. It was full of beautiful foliage, but among all of the leaves and blooms was a giant pot housing an unassuming green bulge in the center of the soil. The accompanying tag declared it an amorphophallus titanum -- a peculiar name which begged for further research. I discovered its common name was the corpse flower. It is a giant tropical plant that blooms once every seven years or so whose flower only lasts a couple days. I quickly calculated that I would probably never see one in its glory. Its common name references its odor of rotting flesh. This is how it attracts pollinators. This softened the blow of an unlikely encounter as I was not in a hurry to smell imitation rotten meat. I was, however, still curious about seeing a flower potentially twice the height of the average human.
Here’s where the serendipity comes in. About a year and a half ago in the summer of 2023 I had just begun a staycation when I saw a post in one of my town's groups from a woman whose husband managed a greenhouse at a local college. He and his colleagues were monitoring the timing of a corpse flower. This was my chance. It was predicted to bloom over the next week while I was luckily home and free from obligation. Were it not for my unknown neighbor's post about her botanist husband, it would have been one of those once-in-a-lifetime occurrences that you learn about after the fact (aurora borealis anyone?).
The school opened the greenhouse to the public. It was housed on the third floor, but as you entered the building on the ground level, your olfactory sense let you know there was something going on. At the top of the stairs and around the corner, I saw the giant flesh-colored tower bolting out of the center. It was wrapped in something resembling more like a leaf than a petal, with a gorgeous wrinkly lime and forest green exterior and a deep wine burgundy interior. It was more majestic than I had imaged. I was enamored.
What was a memorable moment of serendipity you have experienced?
Until next time,
joç
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