My wife wanted a new house. I had always liked the older ones in mature neighborhoods. Dappled light from the tree canopy seemed to lift my spirits. The musty smells and creaky boards are like stories waiting to be told.
So I worry a little. I’ve tried to pull it up but it resists mightily and is all bound together. The job is too big and will never end. I’m not at all sure I want to eliminate it or I’d spray with chemicals. That would feel too much like botanic murder though.
There’s a beauty in its running like when you spill grape juice on white Formica. You know you’ve got to clean it up but the spreading color mesmerizes you.