Into the Cold

I don’t know much about plants, but there’s a sight outside my window that reminds me just how remarkable they are: Here it is in the dead of winter, mid-February, with snow up to our waists for almost two months now, and all of the trees have lost their leaves, so things are looking pretty bare out there. But then there’s the rich, dark green vine extending all the way from the base of a bare birch tree up to its top. So as inhospitable as the elements are to life outside here, a plant is showing that it is indeed true that all is not over until the fat lady sings, and if the vine has anything to say, she won’t be able to sing wide open unless she goes to Antarctica. I’m saying that on the basis of pictures I have seen of the Antarctic. If they are honest, not even a hardy vine can make it there, but maybe that’s only because there are no of trees to grow on or because all those penguins nip ‘em in the bud.

Speaking of penguins, what made them decide to inhabit the coldest place on earth, by the way? Is it merely because no one else is there? Or is it only because no one else is there to eat them? Anyway, I guess those penguins are sort of like vines in that they thrive where no one else has a chance. Go you sweet birds!