In this spooky time of year, I think about ghost flowers.
One of the most famous images of this elusive and ethereal wildflower is an oil-on-card painting by Mabel Loomis Todd. She sent it as a gift to Emily Dickinson.
Years later, after Dickinson’s death, Todd helped edit her first collection of poetry, and the ghost flowers appeared on the cover.
At the time, the plant was generally called Indian pipe. Today, it is more often called ghost pipe or ghost flower.
And spooky it certainly is.
Ghost flowers lacks chlorophyll. Instead of green leaves and stems, almost the entire plant is a waxy, translucent white, sometimes tinged with pale pink. And because it does not photosynthesize, it can thrive in the darkness of the deep forest.
Underground, its roots connect with mycorrhizal fungi, which in turn have a relationship with living forest trees. The trees provide sugars to the fungi, and ghost flower taps into that relationship indirectly obtaining food made by the trees.
Most of the plant’s life is hidden underground. But during summer, usually during the Interlochen camp season, I see ghostly white flowers pushing through the forest floor.
And there is a reason for appearing above ground: reproduction.
Each stem bears a single nodding, bell-shaped flower. Bumblebees are important pollinators. After pollination, the flower straightens, leaving the developing seed capsule pointing upward.
But the transformation isn’t over.
By late fall, the soft, translucent flower has become a brittle dark brown, sometimes almost black, stalk, its empty seed capsule held upright above the forest floor.
And in that form, another of its common names seems entirely appropriate.
Just in time for Halloween, the Ghost Flower has become the Corpse Plant.
