When I got married, I had ivy in my wedding bouquet. After my wedding, I hoped to grow it into a nice wreath shape as one of my friends had done with her wedding ivy. I took cuttings from it with high hopes. My sister also took some ivy and grew it in her college dorm room.
A month or so after my wedding, my ivy died. My sister cut some off of her ivy, grew roots in water, and brought it home for me at Thanksgiving. I was so excited to have it. Until I killed it.
Again, I requested some more ivy from my sister. Again, she was gracious enough to cut some ivy off of hers, grow roots, and bring it to me. Again, I was excited to have it. Until I killed it.
I don't remember how many times this ivy killing-requesting-it-from-my-sister-bring-it-back cycle happened, but I'm very glad that this isn't an indication of my marriage!
This past Sunday, I was offered an ivy plant. Very hesitantly, I agreed to bring it home. Now, let's see if I can keep it alive.
By the way, this fall will be ten years I'll be married. And my wedding ivy is still alive with my sister.