[…]she will grow up to have long hair, a knack for the violin, an anonymous male admirer who writes her love poetry in amphibrachic tetrameter, and a son who dies in battle[…].

From my station at the front door, I greeted every visitor.

At one particularly bad moment, I was clinging with two fingers and a toe to a wall with no other visible holds, and Ross was so far above me, and the wind was so strong, that he never heard me shouting, and then all-out screaming, for him to let some slack into the rope so I could remaneuver.

Bulbophiles definitely should consider experimenting with this unique approach to groundcover under their bulbous plants.