ivy.

climbing,
creeping,
clinging,
twining,
vining tendrils of reaching righteous leafy goodness.
yes.
neighbors,
i've got six kinds of ivy in my house, so far.
and i need MORE.
i want my bedroom to be the kind of hallowed hall
that is usually reserved for higher powered higher learning
among the bricks and mortar of the ivy league.
y'know?
yeah.
i want a luxurious greenhouse of english magic,
and coiled feelers flowing like rainbow waterfalls
of green and white and red and purple.
because that's cool, tho.
after all,
how is having a bursting bower full of leaves and oxygen lame?
i dunno.
i do know that that sort of horticultural activation is happening, tho.
so there's that.
and on the ones-
ivy is definitely invited to the Folk life & Liberty Fortress.
that's real.
i've got all sorts of varieties taking root in water,
so i can eventualy spread 'em out and repot 'em
everywhere there's shelf space, floor space, wall space,
or even just a little nook for stashing a sprig of expanding life.
i'm tellin' y'all.
check the bottle-service-type teleport:

c'mon, how is that not expert?
right?
mmhmm.
and i've even got a brand new variegated spike leaf jauns,
and i dug deep and placed her in a new pot already.
teleport:

yeah!
i want all the life,
every chlorophyll-filled cell,
every photosynthesizing sprout,
and all the branches and blades and roots and sh!t,
and i want them all to flourish inside my flippin' castle.
nature always wins,
and i wanna ride those coattails to collateral victory.
is that ok?
i mean,
i need the new hottness to cascade across the sills
of my still and silent rooms, friends.
really.
hey-
if you've got ivy growing in your spot,
snap me off a tiny snippet,
and i'll add it in to the mix.
more is always better.
and more is what i want;
never quiet, never soft.....