Did you know that even the pleasant, bucolic plants that surround you are eagerly awaiting your death? Even actively working towards it, with stealthy precision? Well now you do. — Graham
There’s a gulch by my house in Rainier Beach that’s infested with English ivy. I avoid it. It’s sinister. Whenever I walk by, I have to control the urge to cross the street.
Ivy is invasive. It’s not native to North America. Some fancy people brought it over to make authentic English gardens (which are actually pretty cool), but as is the trend with white people and the environment, didn’t think much about the long-term effects past next Tuesday. I’m guessing some lumber baron brought this stuff over here to prove that he was high class, just like an East Coast blue blood.
Here’s the thing: the climate here in the Northwest isn’t so different from England, and, even if you’re entirely on it, plants are eventually going to spread to places they’re not supposed to go . . .