Tuesday, March 27, 2007

mysterious creepy things

The two tiny sprigs of stolen ivy I planted on the north side of the house grew into an immense and frightening mass of green in only five years. Light from the north windows vanished and the center of the house was always gloomy. There are roses also growing on that north side, and they were struggling, strangled as they were by the thuggish, clinging ivy.

It didn't even quit, this monstrous stuff, when it reached the top of the chimney. Part headed west and slithered into the attic vent where the leafless albino vines wrapped around the rafters, burrowed beneath the insulation. Most of the remainder went airborne, waving about in mid-air like Medusa's snakes, while a single less adventurous branch headed east to mount an attack on the golden honeylocust. I swear I could hear it sometimes at night, whispering along the bricks.

I hate thuggish things, plants that know no boundaries, respect nothing, advance with too much vigor, pushing aside less vital, more delicate green things. We got out the ladders, rakes, clippers, gloves, saws. I tucked my fear of heights in my back pocket and crept up the ladder to rip the tendrils from the brick, yank it out of the attic, off the poor, ailing honeylocust.

A massive wall of ivy was the last to come down. It was all in one piece and when we succeeded in loosening its grip on the chimney it came down to reveal (of course) still more vines and also something horrid, something nesty, creepy, filled with fuzz and gloves.

Whatever the hell lived here, it stole all of my garden gloves and tucked them into this nest thing, this huge nest thing stuffed about 10' up from the ground in the bend of the chimney. I counted 12 pair of those brown wear-them-out, throw-them-away garden gloves. I remembered that last year I'd lost a package of them. Apparently not. Some kind of thief, some creature. Don't think it's birds. Do you think it could be rats? Squirrels? Don't like it. Creepy. Gone now, but still creepy, because now it's homeless.


Blogger Honi said...

hmmm not creepy if you ask me.. pretty darn smart actually... could have been a crow or something... might be some type of animal like a racoon or something... and it found your gloves to a cozy hideway for its home. smart little critter.. yeah I know.. now for the person in me.. YIKES>. that is pretty creepy..
have a great day

March 27, 2007 6:08 PM  
Anonymous Tater said...

You made that squirrel a very happy and warm camper this winter. I ripped all the ivy off my house as well. It keeps coming back and back, like an ill used lover.

March 27, 2007 6:46 PM  
Blogger Lotuslander said...

Lynette, thank you for defending Canadians on Joe's blog. I often find that I enjoy reading Joe's blogs for your insightful comments rather than what Joe has to say,even though he's often profound. But not in the same league as you Big sloppy hugs to you. I did get carried away, but stereotypes of any kind, make my fur rise.

March 27, 2007 7:47 PM  
Blogger evilganome said...

Thanks for sticking up for the Quebecers Lynette. Having grown up in the northeast, we were a fairly despised group of "foreigners" even though most of us like myself were born and raised in the states. I am seriously thinking of claiming my Canadian passport if I can get a job in the north.

As for the ivy, yeah, it's like unwanted relatives. It shows up, takes over and won't go away. Try Virginia Creeper or Dutchman's Pipes. Much more well mannered.

March 28, 2007 7:11 AM  
Anonymous Pittypat said...

If it weren't up in the air, I would think pack rat. One lived in my mother's house that took all KINDS of odds and ends away to its nest. Also, whenever she put out D-con rat poison, it would completely cover it with whatever it could find - plastic or paper bag pieces, usually. They are very smart. Perhaps . . .

March 30, 2007 11:19 PM  
Blogger farmboyz said...

I know what you mean about thuggish plants. At first you're so happy to have introduced something robust, and then they turn on you. Consider the orange trumpet vine. It will rip the clapboards off your house and loosen the foundation. And bittersweet! God what an insidious killer. And the deceivingly sweet tradescantia with its demure purple flowers. Nothing near it is safe. It often partners with violets in its jihad. I've learned to plant things like mint way off in the wild places where I can make a pilgrimage to its stand and drag my feet through it to unleash the scent. Same with monarda. And horseradish! Good God! tunneling twenty feet underground and popping up in horrid places.

March 31, 2007 3:12 AM  

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