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It was the early morning hours of mothers day when the lattice blew in. It had been tacked to the deck for more than seven years, and the vines had spent that time resolutely climbing and entwining it. The glass bulbs from the old christmas lights were fogged by weather and dead from seasons of time but had become so laced in the thicket of viney wood that they were part of it all.

On the sunny saturday before we had decided to trim back the tallest of the plants–the