I was teaching my students how to paint ivy leaves yesterday. Ivy is a difficult plant to paint, with its dark, grey-green colour and white veins. I like how it often has a purple or crimson-ish stem which, if you look carefully, seems to twist around like fine snakes weaving in and out of each other.
Once apon a time I used to live in a basement flat with a garden, at the end of which was the railway track carrying the Piccadilly and District Line tube trains into London. There was an ugly concrete wall separating my garden from the long drop down to the track on the other side. A great mass of ivy grew up and over this wall in a fairytale fashion. I tried to encourage this ivy, but one day the railway workmen cut it down and threw it over to my side of the wall.
Upon landing, the ivy curled over itself and formed a long tube. My dog Monty (a small terrier) loved investigating this tube and rummaging through it. Over time, the 'ivy parcels' continued to arrive and, eventually, my back garden became a maze of tunnels. I was impressed at how the ivy managed to stay alive, and indeed thrive, albeit in this tubular form.
Another name for the ivy is 'Creeping Jenny'. It is a climbing evergreen that can also grow along the ground when it lacks support. Its small, fine, aerial rootlets cling on to trees, shrubs, stone and brick. It has pretty, heart-shaped leaves and produces small green flower clusters from late August into autumn, providing last-minute nectar for insects before hibernation. Its berries, a yellow-orange colour maturing into a rich red-black over winter, provide food for birds through to the spring.
Ivy can have the unfortunate effect of strangling the tree it climbs through persistent growth, but it is now believed that ivy does not actually absorb nutrients from the host (my mum thinks otherwise, however, and she does know a lot when it comes to gardening). On buildings, sound masonry is unaffected by growing ivy (https://www.rhs.org.uk/prevention-protection/ivy-on-buildings). Indeed, it can actually provide a welcome dryness. Recent research shows that ivy (and other climbing plants) can form a blanket that effectively produces a thermal layer, thereby improving the building's energy efficiency (https://www.mdpi.com/2071-1050/15/12/9546).
Worn by the wayward god Dionysus (Bacchus), ivy was associated with wine and revelry. Steeping wine in ivy made it more potent, whilst removing its after-effects and creating a prophetic intoxication much-loved by the priestesses of Bacchus.
Ivy is feminine in nature, ruled by the moon. It is seen in folklore as figuratively binding people together, uniting communities and granting wisdom in social situations. It was seen as enhancing connectivity in magic, and was used for binding spells.
Milk maids would wear ivy to protect them from faerie enchantment. It was worn by partners to ensure fidelity and fertility, particularly in older women. Sweeping ivy around any given area was thought to bring good luck, and to 'sweep away' negativity. Growing on the walls of a house, it was seen as a bringer of wealth and capable of binding the family together.
Healthwise, ivy was thought to allevitate hangovers and to help heal wounds and sores. Dried and powdered ivy leaves were used to create snuff. Nowadays, however, it is considered toxic.
I’m fairly terrible at social gatherings, so, at the next private view I have to attend, I’m going to try carrying an ivy leaf in my pocket. I read that it was once thought to help if you feel socially awkward. We'll see.
Lovely piece of writing