Ivy

Somewhere in or around chapter six in the history of vegetation, some of the darker green gets tired of how the moss sits pouting among the lowest stones. It gets tired of grass and of dirt and the too careful architecture of trees. It gets bored with the dull stumpfoot bushes. When it has had enough of whining, it decides to try something wild, something sly and inextricable.
It decides to do something skyward.