Maidencane, I found out, is part of the rhizome family, plants whose stems reach underground, shin-deep in water or mud or the worm trails of gardens where their roots spread out far and wide. Lotus is a rhizome, just like ginger, iris, and Lily of the Valley. Beautiful things. Fragrant things.
Cutting a piece off a rhizome does nothing to harm it; each scrap, left on the ground, can become a brand-new plant all by itself. If the broken piece lands on good soil or shallow swamps, the stem will descend and begin the growing. If not, or if the breaking happens in the cold days of winter, then the broken piece will wait, keeping all its best materials deep inside, patient for spring. As they prepare to face a second life above ground, the roots of these pieces link themselves together in an ever-widening berth, a network of fibers that keeps the soil from rushing off to gulfs and rivers. Because of this, rhizomes prevent whole miles of earth from sinking beneath the water of their birth-marshes, so that Papa Roy and Mama Ilene and everyone they know can live on the top side with the ibis, the alligator, the toad. Because of this, scientists say that maidencane is actually one of the most important kinds of plants around.
The rain fell and the waters rose, and through the hazy glass of Papa Roy’s truck we heard the frogs come out to feed, and I listened to them and detected not one croak more extraordinary than the rest. So I rolled down my window and let the water in, and blew a kiss to them all, just in case.