Last night I discovered that ivy has pushed through the outside bricks, into the walls, and is trying to sprout through the baseboard in the bedroom. And that is thoroughly creepy. Not because I think that ivy will suddenly come shooting in to attack us in our beds, but because the ivy has been slowly, slowly working its way in and is probably not going to stop now. (I am so glad I rent, by the way.)

Something that inexorable and vegetative reminded me of a couple of science fiction stories–there’s one by Bradbury in S is For Space about mushroom kits that kids order and start growing; the mushrooms then turn out to be a weird alien life that takes over the world and smothers all the kids’ parents. And Ursula LeGuin wrote “Vaster Than Empires, and More Slow” which I don’t recall as well, but is about a planet whose plant life slowly strangles the explorers, I think. (I mostly remember that the title comes from Andrew Marvell’s “To His Coy Mistress“: My vegetable love should grow/ Vaster than empires, and more slow.)

So maybe if I hadn’t read so much science fiction I wouldn’t be nervous about walking by the spot where I saw the ivy pushing in. I think the landlord can deal with this…