{"id":50812,"date":"2025-06-02T15:11:15","date_gmt":"2025-06-02T20:11:15","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.wlbott.com\/?p=50812"},"modified":"2025-06-02T15:45:48","modified_gmt":"2025-06-02T20:45:48","slug":"the-twining-ivy","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.wlbott.com\/?p=50812","title":{"rendered":"The Twining Ivy"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Today we learned that ivy does not twine! Not in the true botanical sense.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Ivy (like Hedera helix<\/em>, English ivy) is classified as a climbing plant<\/strong> or liana<\/strong>. But unlike plants that grow tall with thick, supportive stems, ivy evolved a strategy to save energy<\/strong> by using other<\/em> structures (trees, walls, fences) for support. Instead of investing in big, heavy trunks, it produces long, flexible stems that cling and climb.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ivy doesn\u2019t just wrap or twist like a morning glory or wisteria (which are true twining plants); it uses aerial rootlets<\/strong>. These tiny roots sprout along the stem and secrete a glue-like substance (rich in carbohydrates) that sticks it to surfaces \u2014 bark, stone, brick.<\/p>\nElder G<\/cite><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

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[ed. note: my first thought was, “This glue-like substance, can you put it on waffles?”]<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div><\/div>\n\n\n\n

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Elder G Waxes Poetic<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

Why does the ivy twine?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Because it must.<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

It\u2019s written in the ivy\u2019s nature, coded in its cells, that urge to reach, to cling, to wrap itself in longing<\/strong> around whatever offers support. The ivy doesn\u2019t question or analyze \u2014 it spirals toward light, wraps around stone or wood, seeking height, seeking something to hold onto.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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It twines because that\u2019s how it survives, how it thrives, how it becomes part of the old wall or tree it embraces.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It twines because life<\/strong> taught it that going straight up alone is too hard \u2014 but winding, wrapping, holding on? That works.<\/p>\n<\/div>

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It\u2019s a bit like us, don\u2019t you think? We twine around friendships, ideas, loves, memories \u2014 not always straight, not always clean, but persistent.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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A Few Nuts and Bolts<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

The Evolutionary Backstory<\/strong><\/h4>\n\n\n\n

Over millions of years, plants in dense forests faced intense competition for sunlight. Some evolved to be massive trees; others, like ivy, became opportunists, evolving climbing and clinging abilities<\/strong> to ride up those trees.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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This photo of an evolving ivy, taken during the Vinetaceous Scriptorian<\/em> Epoch era, has confused evolutionary biologist, botanists, intelligent designer advocates (those that can read, that is<\/em>), vegetarians, kids on field trips, and fans of the McRib.<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div>\n\n\n\n

In evolutionary terms, this is called adaptive radiation<\/strong> \u2014 plants exploring available niches. Ivy\u2019s twining and clinging habit gave it an edge, letting it colonize spaces where low, ground-hugging plants couldn\u2019t compete.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Fun Detail<\/h4>\n\n\n\n

Interestingly, ivy\u2019s aerial roots secrete tiny nanoparticles<\/strong> in their adhesive glue, which allows it to stick strongly even to rough or uneven surfaces \u2014 a subject of study in biomimetic engineering today.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Broader Botanical Picture<\/strong><\/h4>\n\n\n\n

Across the plant world, climbing has evolved multiple times \u2014 but the mechanisms vary:<\/p>\n\n\n\n