I was sitting on a bench one morning this summer, looking out across the pond before the heat of the day kicked in, you know, minding my own business and just generally playing at being retired,
when I felt something tickling at my arm. I absently brushed it away, but the tickling persisted.
when something began tickling my arm. I looked down to discover that the prodigiously growing vine next to me was getting overly familiar!
Now generally I don't mind sharing that bench with the vine, but this was going too far! This was worthy of a trip to HR to file a complaint!
And soon or I was going to be swallowed up by those twinning tentacles and held fast until the winter frosts released me.
You see that short bit of vertical stick in the top center of the photo above?
That's all that's visible of my Dad's hand-carved walking stick, his working stick - not the real fancy one he carved and painted in a wood-carving class that is now safely displayed, indoors, at one of my siblings places.
This plainer version was the stick he actually used for hiking and now, fittingly, it has a place out in the fresh-air overlooking the pond. And at the moment it is going nowhere because that vine has a real tight grip on it!
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