It is sad to see an empty home, especially one that has stood on its foundation for decades. The vacant porch no longer hears the creaking of a rocker or the tinkling of ice in a glass of sweet tea. The living room is silent, conversation and music no longer heard between its walls. The kitchen is devoid of memorable aromas. The bedrooms, once the keeper of dreams, lay vacant. A home that once was a safe haven for a family is now unoccupied and may only have deterioration in its future.

I notice empty houses and wonder who once called it home. I am curious about its past and wonder what the future might hold. I am not the only one. Mother Nature has a way of reaching out to a lonely old house. She will often send out tendrils of ivy, in a possible attempt to offer misguided comfort. I can almost hear the whisper of the ivy as it slowly caresses a wall. It offers a greeting and upon no response invites more of its legions to join. Soon there is a blanket of ivy offering to help shelter the house and help keep its secret of abandonment. The house falls victim to the whims of Mother Nature as there is no one there to offer any resistance.

Although there are examples of well-tended ivy that enhances the appearance of a home it can also be detrimental to the surface. It can find its way into cracks and crevices and expand those joints, opening and inviting rot. Painted walls can become discolored and stucco can find that it is no match for the adhesion of ivy.  Something so natural, that happens so gradually, can become lovely when carefully cultivated yet damaging when its growth has no guidance.

I look in the mirror every morning to perform the obligatory check on hair and clothes. It is nothing more than a passing glance. I believe it is time to look a little longer and a little harder to see what appears in the reflection. What type of ivy is being cultivated?  Have I been successful in producing a healthy, vibrant crop that enhances the gifts I was blessed with from birth or am I letting the ivy run rampant? Is the growth acting as a mask, trying to hide something much like the ivy on an empty house? The good news is that there is always a season of growth. It is never too late to correct the direction of the ivy. It is not always easy, but cutting it off at the root or working diligently to change the path, a healthier harvest can be produced. I’m committed to checking its growth. Will you join me?