Posted: 4/21/04

Sweet Gale

Homely, but tough, this woody shrub thrives in the fringe world of the shoreline. Its flowers are too tiny (and come too early) to be considered pretty. Its thickets are strong enough to get in our way, dense enough to obstruct our view. The haven it provides small birds and insects is of little interest to us. From the human point of view, this is a plant that we could do without.

Gale finds its place where there is no apparent soil-just sand and rock. Through high and low water, its base deeply flooded or high and dry, it does just fine. It also creates a buffer, breaking the energy of the incoming waves and softening the impact of erosive forces.

Canoeing on a summer afternoon, we got caught too far from shore on a lake. A storm crept up on us from behind, astonishing us with driven rain and a violent wind. We paddled straight down the wind toward a small island-our only available refuge. Soon the big, dark cloud tumbled down on top of us. The visibility plummeted-we even lost sight of the island. No matter. There was no way we could go any direction but downwind. By the time we could see the island we were upon it, with neither room nor time to maneuver. We backpaddled to keep aligned, avoiding swamping and easing our crash into the shoreline foliage.
The air is fresh in the midst of a storm, but that day there was also a pungent, sweet fragrance from leaves we had crushed as we struggled ashore. We sat on the rocks, trembling with exertion and gratitude. The shrubby shoreline had saved us from a wild crash landing.

I try to minimize crash landings nowadays, but there are times when I stumble against sweet gale. The fragrance invariably evokes a memory of that day, and my gratitude toward this humble neighbor.

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