Woodbine

There's a shadow the color of dried blood under the maple tree.

Not much will grow in that dim and dry place, only deep green foliaged plants like woodbine and hellebores. Even the Japanese painted ferns died in their second year.

I walk through this space on my way to the spigot for the hose. I step carefully, not knowing what lies under those wide palmate leaves. Occasionally, I stamp my feet to warn any snakes hiding among the deep green of the foliage.

The woodbine planted itself under the maple tree years ago and grew slowly in that inhospitable space. Year after year, it increased in width and depth until it covered the dark shadow completely.

One autumn day, I gave the vine a full inch of leaf mold as a vitamin treatment. The following spring, the woodbine rewarded me by dying in places.

After that, I learned to leave the woodbine alone.

In the side yard, the woodbine grows under the dogwood tree, bubbling near the driveway, where it enjoys an occasional drink from the hose. It climbs the oak tree nearby, attaching itself firmly to the trunk with sticky brown holdfasts.

In the backyard, the it forms a green ribbon in front of the stones where the turtlehead and the bloodroot is planted. Under the sourwood and the buckeye trees, it forms a thick carpet in the acid soil that was created for blueberry bushes that didn't work out.

Woodbine grows lush and green throughout the garden, a beautiful plant that would be loved and cherished by gardeners if only it were not so enthusiastic.