Chapter 2

Festival of Light

For Peter, who suffers mightily

Morning fields of amber grain
Weathered faces lined in pain
Are soothed beneath the artist’s loving hand

Don McLean

Her internal alarm clock demanded Karen wake up and get cracking, regardless of the actual time. She threw her forearm over her eyes and thought, five thirty and she’s up and running. Hey there toad, you knew just how seriously she’s taking all this, so shut your yap and get your lazy ass out of bed.

Last night had been much too warm for even a single blanket, so all she had to do was kick off the sheet and pull on her comfy old robe. She padded off to the bathroom, stretching long and hard, and plopped down on the toilet to piddle. It was obvious that Laci hadn’t done more than brush her teeth.

Of course she hadn’t! Karen knew exactly where to find Laci. Her new routine was as carved in stone as Michelangelo’s Pieta: Up at five, brush teeth and pee, down to her new studio until at least half past six, working on whatever projects she had going. Only then could she worry about such annoyances like showering, doing her hair, and eating breakfast.

Karen crept down the stairs, but there was no avoiding the squeaks and squawks of the old steps. Oh well, nothing ventured, nothing gained.

The French doors were open wide, and the unmistakable smell of oil paints and turpentine filled the air, though not as heavily as usual. The windows were wide open to catch the morning breeze as Karen peaked in.

She broke into a smile of satisfaction at what she saw. Laci, wearing only a simple bralette and an ordinary pair of bikini panties, stood before her easel, so concentrated she hardly noticed Karen. She stood on the balls of her feet, rocking back and forth as she decided where she wanted the paint to go. Her hair was a bird’s nest, perfect for stashing assorted brushes to free her hands. Her green eyes glowed with concentration. Right now, she stood back, squinting at the canvas. At last, she growled her displeasure at something she had or had not done during her work. Her growl morphed into, “God dammit, why can’t I figure this out!”

Karen ignored the rhetorical question as she glided up behind Laci. “Good morning, Sweet Sunshine.” She buried her face in the mass of Laci’s hair and breathed deep. “Good God, I love that smell, even with the oil paint thrown in.” She gave Laci’s buns a squeeze, which led to a squeal and a delighted giggle.

Everything about the scene she faced thrilled Karen. Who would have imagined, when the clock rolled over to announce the start of new year back on that cold winter’s night, that before reaching the halfway point in the calendar year would find Laci rescued from the mucky cesspool that was her life, and find herself in charge of making a brand new downtown festival happen.

Purring, Karen slipped her arms around Laci’s waist and pulled the girl’s buns against her mound. Not that there wasn’t hunger in her embrace, but that was for another time. “So, tell me. Why are you so irked on this fine morning?”

“Oh, it’s nothing. Just these damned acrylics never want to play nice.”

“Is this something you need for the festival today?”

Laci turned so she could nuzzle her face between Karen’s breasts. “No, all that’s finished. This one’s an assignment Mrs. Alberghetti wants me to do, and I wanted to work on it some while I had the time, it helps keep me from getting all nervous, but these damned acrylics aren’t cooperating”

Karen looked at what Laci was working on. There were two easels. Her “go-by” easel held a standard print of someone Karen assumed came from the mists of antiquity, and the other a mostly blank canvas except for a serviceable sketch of the print and the earliest background colors in the upper right. “What are you trying to do?”

Laci shook her head with frustration. “She wants me to copy this print as exactly as possible, and I have to do it in acrylics, which dry fast, which is, like, fine, but if you make a mistake, it’s hard to go back and fix it, you only have so much time, with oil you have plenty of time to go back and fine tune things or fix a mistake.”

“Uh huh,” Karen said, a broad, proud smile lighting her face. “I’ll just nod like the village idiot and say, ‘Whatever you say, love, you lost me before your first pause to breathe.’”

Smiling, Laci looked up from Karen’s cleavage. “Tch. You are so silly.”

Looking at Laci’s beautiful, radiant face made Karen’s insides surge and do a flip-flop. She playfully drew her index finger down Laci’s nose, finishing with a kiss planted on the tip. “Impress me some more. Who – or more specifically – what is that you’re working on, anyway?”

“Karen! I’m surprised at you,” Laci cried in mock surprise. “Anyone who knows about all those guys from the olden days oughta know who that is.”

“Well, exxxxcuuuuse me. What’s Beethoven got to do with ... with ... whoever that is?”

“It’s Antigone, she was, like, this warrior princess in really ancient times, like Ancient Greece and Sparta and Athens, Mrs. Alberghetti says I’m gonna learn about her in my freshman classical lit class next year, some guy named Soffaclees or something wrote a play about her, and I think one on her father, Edipuss, who married his mother...”

“Ah yes,” Karen interrupted. “Ol’ Sophocles sure was fascinated by that family. I’m sorry to bump you off your wagon, but I know who Antigone was, plus! I’ve read the plays and saw a performance on a field trip during high school.”

Laci ignored Karen’s playful needle, instead growing excited as she squirmed to better see her work, eager to explain everything to Karen. “Mrs. Alberghetti has lots of things she wants me to do, like it has to be that portrait specifically – it’s by some painter named Fredric Leighton, and she says I should try to be as exact as possible because it has a lot of interesting and challenging shading, and lighting, and transitions, and techniques, and all that stuff, and like I said, the stuff I need to do isn’t easy in the first place, so it’s only...”

Karen held Laci’s lithe form spooned as closely as possible to her own, and the girl’s taut butt pressed maddeningly against Karen’s mound, sending warm ripples over her. Laci’s soliloquy on Antigone and acrylics had faded to a comforting drone.

She let her fingers trace Laci’s silky skin just above the waistband of her panties before letting them slip down and skate over the swath of fabric covering the girl’s sensitive muffin. All she had to do was slide her hand under Laci’s panties, and she’d be caressing the smooth skin of her lover’s sex. From there, it was a step away from sliding her hand down and using her middle finger to open Laci’s labia...

“Karen,” Laci suddenly protested, leaving Antigone and Fredric Leighton by the wayside. She squirmed and wriggled until she nuzzled her face between Karen’s full breasts again. “What are you trying to do? Make me crazy, ‘cause if you are, it’s working.”

“The thought had crossed my mind,” Karen murmured into Laci’s mass of sleep-tangled hair.

“We hafta get ready, we hafta be at Mr. B’s by eight thirty, and if you don’t stop we’re gonna be late,” Laci protested weakly.

Karen sighed. “What can I say? You just have that effect on me. We’ll make up for it later tonight. I’ll really be juicy by then.”

Laci lifted her head to look at Karen. There was an impish gleam in her eyes. “Want me to nurse?”

Karen smiled and kissed the tip of Laci’s nose. In another time or place, that would be an offer she’d jump on. “No, it’s better you don’t, or you’ll send me into orbit. I’ll pump.” Beyond the sensual pleasure of nursing, her girls were uncomfortably full. It would be some heavy pumping.

Laci’s smile turned into a playful pout. “You’re no fun. Besides, you started it.”

“Listen to you. Not two minutes ago you were saying we’ll be late if we don’t hurry. But anyway, now it’s time for me to play grown-up. I’ll go first since you take ninety-eleven hours just on your hair.”

“Tch. Karen, you are such a wiseass. Besides, I’m not washing my hair today, it’ll never dry. I’m just brushing it.”

“Good thinking.” She gave Laci’s butt a squeeze and a pat. “Go ahead and get back to doing your thing. I’ll holler when I’m done in the bathroom.” She brought her hands up and lightly cupped Laci’s face. “How come you’re so beautiful?”

“Because I love you, silly.”

It didn’t take long for Karen to get ready. After a shower, she dried herself off, and stepping into the hallway, called out, “Laci love! I’m done, it’s all yours.”

“OK,” she called back. “Be right up.”

In little more than a minute, Karen heard Laci running up the stairs. How the hell does she find the energy to run up the stairs at six o’clock in the morning?

Laci came boiling into the room all in a tither. Now that she no longer had painting demanding her full attention, she could let her excitement take over. Paint splatters and smudges covered her. “Ohmygod, I hafta get ready,” she declared, and immediately started stripping off her bling and what little clothing she was wearing.

“Will that paint come off?” Karen asked.

Laci looked down at her hands, as if noticing them for the first time. “This? Oh yeah, it’ll come right off. Oh God, I don’t have any in my hair, do I?”

“No, but I’d sure love to give it a closer inspection, especially since you’re standing there naked and making me think impure thoughts.”

“Karen, cut it out. You know I need to get ready.”

“Be my guest,” Karen said with a florist. It’s probably a good thing you picked out your clothes last night.”

Laci snickered and said, “You think?” She took a couple of steps toward the bathroom before she gave a little twerk with her butt and said, “You’ll just have to wait for later.” She stuck her tongue out and scurried to the bathroom in a cloud of giggles.

Karen shook her head and smiled at the memory of last night. It took an hour of hemming and hawing, and a mother-daughter tiff that reminded Karen that Laci was still an adolescent girl with all the quirks and peculiarities inherent to the teenus girlus Americanus species. Stunning though she was, Laci was as worried about how she looked as any of her peers. In her eyes, every blemish was a flashing neon sign, and every tiny zit an erupting volcano.

Last night, after a half an hour of stressing over not being able to find anything to wear, Laci settled on a pair of faux leather leggings and a pink tee bearing the message “The Earth Without Art Is ‘Eh’”. In Karen’s view, the tee was fine. It was the leggings that made her cringe. “Laci, honey,” she said. “Don’t you think those leggings are a bit over the top?”

“What do you mean, ‘over the top?’” Laci said with suspicion.

Thereupon ensued a time-honored fifteen-minute argument, animated at times, about what clothes an adolescent girl could wear in public. Laci argued there was nothing wrong about wearing the leggings, other girls wore much more risqué pants and skirts to school every day, while Karen pointed out that such an outfit would only draw attention to herself, and the focus should be on the festival. Laci in turn reminded Karen that it seemed everyone kept telling her things like people would come in droves if they knew she was involved in the festival, and it wasn’t because she was a famous artist. Why not wear something that really got everyone’s attention.

In the end, they reached a compromise of sorts. She would wear a pair of coral pink leggings with a flowered vine running up each side if she wore a pair of plain undies – no G-strings or thongs.

That condition puzzled Laci. “Why plain undies?” she asked.

“Because I don’t want you to show a camel toe,” Karen explained.

“Karen!” Laci cried with surprise. “Since when do you know about camel toes?”

“Of course I know what a camel-toe is. I don’t live in a bubble. And it’s because I know what it is that I don’t want you showing yours.”

That was enough to make Laci laugh, and that in turn ended the tiff.

Karen finished getting herself ready. She massaged moisturizing cream on her face, then applied a thin cover of foundation, but otherwise avoided makeup. She settled on a pair of snug lime green Capris and a white button-down shirt with the sleeves neatly rolled up to her elbows and worn untucked. It was a nice, neutral, soccer-momish outfit.

Just as she was finishing up, Laci came out of the bathroom, her hair brushed and parted on the left, so it cascaded over her right shoulder. “Are you done with the vanity? I need to put on my makeup.”

“It’s all yours,” Karen said. “I’m going to have a cup of coffee while you finish getting ready. How about I cut up some strawberries for a quick breakfast.”

“Sure,” Laci shrugged. “That’d be good.”

“I thought maybe we could go pick some fresh ones tomorrow.”

“Don’t you remember we’re having a pool party for everyone in the club?”

“Damn, I forgot. Nobody’s coming until the afternoon? We need to do some grocery shopping, so I can feed everyone. We can do that in the morning.”

“Sounds good. By the way, I like your outfit. It’s so ... you,” Laci said with a playful smirk.

“I hope that’s a compliment.”

“Well, since you’re the most beautiful woman I know, I’d say it’s a compliment.”

Unsurprisingly, they were the first ones to arrive at Jay Belden’s house. Karen pulled up behind what she assumed was Jay’s Toyota 4Runner parked up close the garage. Next to it, Karen noted with an impressed nod, was a sleek silver Lexus hybrid. There were, it seemed, perks to being a department head in a well-endowed liberal arts college.

Laci had done an admirable job of appearing outwardly calm, but it took effort. She struggled with two opposing emotions, wanting to let her childish glee run loose on one hand, but wanting to be mature, responsible, and trustworthy on the other. So far, Karen noted, mature and responsible was holding the fort. “Excited?” she said with a smile and a squeeze of her girl’s thigh.

Laci bounced in her seat clapping her wrists together. “Like you wouldn’t even believe!” She unbuckled her seatbelt. “I’ve been trying so hard not to go off like a little kid. I don’t want anyone to think I can’t be trusted to take care of stuff.”

“All well and good,” Karen said, opening the door. “But lighten up on yourself. first, this is supposed to be fun. If it isn’t fun, what’s the point?”

“I just want it to go good, I don’t want to look like an idiot.”

Ahhh, the fears that haunt the adolescent soul! Karen thought with a droll smile. “I highly doubt that’ll be a problem.”

There was a pause in the scramble to get out when their eyes locked. Karen sighed. “I wish I could kiss you.”

Laci broke into an impish smile. “No one’s looking...”

Karen glanced around, and her heart sped up. She darted in to place a quick, but firm smack on her baby’s lips. “We need to be careful about being too free with our kisses outside of the house, but Jesus, try resisting that sweet mouth of yours.”

Laci chuckled playfully. “Problem is, once you start I don’t want you to stop.”

“Then I better not start,” Karen said, getting out of the car, and shouldering her bag.

“Should I leave my paintings and drawings in the car?”

“For now, until we know what Jay’s plans are.”

Karen led the way up stone steps passed the immaculately maintained lawn and flower beds, to Jay’s large white neo-colonial house. It was situated on a landscaped lot in the aptly named Faculty Row, the quiet neighborhood of elegant homes provided for the Upper Administration and Department Heads of Bentley College.

Even this early, the day was already unpleasantly warm and sticky. Karen’s stretchy Capri’s and simple untucked white blouse were a safe compromise between comfort and decorum. Laci’s approving comment had been a nice ego stroke.

Laci was bouncing on her tippy-toes with excitement when Karen rang the doorbell. “Do I really look OK?” Laci pleaded.

The door opened, and it framed a delighted Jay Belden. “Mr. B!” Laci, gleefully animated, skittered up to him and they embraced like old and dear friends.

“How’d I know you two were going to be the first ones here, and half an hour earlier than anyone else. I was just telling Evan how much this means to you, and how excited you are. And my god! You look simply stunning! Once word gets around, there’s going to be a mob showing up just to see you.”

“You’re full of poop, Mr. B,” Laci said, her eyes and face glowing.

“And Karen, how are you this fine morning?”

“Good morning Jay,” she said, leaning in for the obligatory cheek kiss. “And yes, she’s excited -- to put it mildly. She was up at five o’clock this morning painting of all things. It’s a good thing she decided what to wear last night, or we’d still be home.”

“I love your shirt Mr. B. Where can I get something like that?”

Jay looked down at his shirt with a benign scowl. It was a simple pink tee with a print of Monet’s “Water Lily’s” across the chest and the logo “Art Teachers Do It for The Monet” encircling it. “This? I think I got it on Amazon. There are a gazillion art t-shirts out there, I’ll send you a couple of links. Anyway, come on in guys. You haven’t met Evan yet,” he said vibrantly.

Karen looked around with the skilled eye of a real estate agent with a background in general construction. It was likely one of the original buildings, which would make it over 150 years old. It clearly had been through several remodels over the years, the most recent one returning it to much of its original simple splendor. The exposed wooden beams rough-sawn from massive white pines and the floorboards cut from both oak and pine, had developed a beautiful patina that exuded welcoming warmth. Simply painted sheet rock had replaced the original lath-and-plaster walls in one of the remodels.

“I love the house,” Karen said as Jay led the way to the kitchen.

“Beautiful, isn’t it? The decorating is, well, eclectic.”

Karen chuckled. “I guess that’s one way of putting it.”

“Our tastes are different, and I guess what you see is a compromise of sorts. Evan is all about the Renaissance, the Raphaelites – it’s his doctorate field of study – while I’m strictly Art Deco and Cubism.”

“Unusual,” Karen agreed, “but it sure works. I love it.”

“Thank you.”

“Yeah, Mr. B,” Laci added. “It’s awesome. I’m still trying to figure out Cubism.”

They stepped into the bright, expansive kitchen – there was little to suggest antiquity here – the rich smell of an expensive coffee filling the air. A tall, lean man stepped in from the breakfast nook set off from the main kitchen. He was, Karen noted, extremely attractive, even more so than Jay, who Karen thought of as one of the more attractive men she knew. He had a shock of curly black hair, finely etched features, and bright, humorous eyes. “Evan honey, these are the ladies I have just been dying for you to meet! Karen, this is my gorgeous husband Evan, and Evan, this is one of the world’s true heroes, Karen Nelson.”

Evan, his eyes twinkling, held out his hand and gave Karen a strong-gripped handshake, which she returned with an equally strong grip. “I am so glad to finally meet you! Jay has told me all about your heroics as a rescuer of damsels in distress, and beautiful to boot.”

Karen laughed. “Ninety-nine percent hyperbole, I’m sure. Small events have a way of growing with the retelling. It’s good to meet you.”

“And this,” Jay said with a proud flourish, “is my gorgeous little shining star, Laci.”

Laci blushed furiously and squirmed. She tentatively held out her hand, unsure if was the right thing to do. “Hi,” she said softly, as she let her hand be taken.

“So, you’re the young artist Jay and Marie have been raving about. I’ve been dying to meet you, Marie thinks you’re the next Wyeth, and I’ll tell you, there was no hyperbole when Jay told me how gorgeous you are. I think he understated just how beautiful you are.”

Laci shifted uncomfortably. “You guys are gonna give me a complex or something.”

Evan laughed. “Spoken like a true teenage girl. Unaffected humility is never a bad thing, and there’s precious little of it in the world – especially the art world.”

“I’m not being a very good host,” Jay declared, as if sensing Laci’s discomfort. “Karen, how do you like your coffee?” It wasn’t an offer.

“Black, one sugar.”

“I hope ordinary Starbucks Rainforest is OK.”

“Ha!” Karen barked. “Coffee snobbery I totally do not get, same with wine. Coffee is coffee. My grandfather made the stuff I started drinking, he called it Navy coffee and it would loosen your fillings if you weren’t careful.”

“Laci honey, you want anything?”

“No thanks Mr. B, I have my water.”

Jay handed Karen her coffee. “I don’t expect anyone else to show up for a while yet. Would you like to see the house?”

“I’d love to,” Karen said with genuine enthusiasm.

“Can I come, too?” Laci said with a small plea in her voice, as if she were being left out.

“Of course,” Evan said. “It would be sinful if you didn’t.”

Karen was keen to get a better look at the unique decorating style, which at first glance seemed to be a form of neoclassic junk. Karen, her own decorating style little more than a conservative, middle-class Better-Homes-and-Gardens afterthought, was dazzled by the seemingly random display of artwork filling the spaces. There were elaborately framed Byzantine religious prints and statuary intermingled with Picasso Cubist prints and Art-Deco objets d’art. All the while she took in the underlying architecture and craftsmanship of the house itself.

She began to see a subtle but unmistakable unity to the chaotic initial appearance. She couldn’t put her finger on it – neither art nor interior decorating were among her strengths – but she picked up an understated cohesion to everything that became ever more pleasing to the eye.

Jay kept up an enthusiastic running commentary. Behind them, she could hear Laci and Evan having an earnest discussion. She couldn’t tell what they were talking about, but Laci was clearly asking questions and Evan was answering her. Laci wasn’t particularly shy when she felt comfortable around someone. In fact, she could be quite engaging. Evan must have piqued her interest in something. In fact, they turned and went to a different part of the house.

Karen smiled. “Evan seems quite taken by her,” she said.

“Laci? I’d be surprised if he wasn’t. Laci has a way about her, especially the last few months. She lights up any room she walks into. I don’t know what you did Karen, but whatever it was, thank you. She has just exploded into something amazing. This festival needs her as its face, and she’s stepped up.”

“I didn’t do anything special. I just gave her a safe home environment, a little support and caring, add a little love, and voila.”

“Love. I think that’s it, that was the missing ingredient.”

“And I do love her. She’s become my other daughter.”

“By the way, have you heard much from Amy? Is she happy?”

Karen sighed wistfully. It wasn’t her favorite subject, but it was an innocent question and courtesy demanded a response of some kind. “Oh yeah, we talk, chat, text, Skype, but she mainly stays closer to Laci,” she said in a tone that expressed her discomfort discussing the subject. “She’s doing very well, she’s fit right in at her new school, has a lot of new friends. I don’t think she’s fully over her anger, but it’s getting better with time.”

Jay, perhaps sensing Karen’s ambivalence, simply said, “That’s good to hear,” before getting back to his running commentary.

After making a circuit of the house, they ended back in the kitchen. In the span of 15 minutes, Karen learned more about Cezanne, Picasso, Georges Braque and the Cubist movement than she’d learned in a lifetime. None of it meant much to her, not like it would if he’d been describing the role of Beethoven in bringing the Classical form to its limits, but he was engaging and able to make it seem meaningful.

It was a truly beautiful house, and from a realtor’s perspective quite desirable. She unconsciously did calculations. If the house were on the open market rather a part of Bentley, she would list it initially at four hundred thousand, and settle for nothing less than three hundred thousand. A typical modest home in one of Williamston’s good outskirt neighborhoods usually fetched around $150,000.

No matter how you looked at it, a house like this would bring a very nice commission. As it was, this was shaping up to be her best year ever. The downtown riverfront sale alone was worth a typical year’s income. Add to that several smaller downtown commercial sales, and a good residential turn over, and it was looking ever more likely she could take Laci on a trip somewhere – maybe the Caribbean, a cruise, or even New York City where they could visit the museums, Broadway, a concert. I’ll have to get my butt in gear and get her a passport, have Gail get me through the process.

Karen glided over to Laci, who was still engaged in an animated conversation with Evan. “I see you’re dazzling our host with your charm and beauty,” Karen teased playfully.

“Karen, cut it out,” Laci said with a smile that said she wasn’t at all bothered.

“Indeed she has,” Evan said. “She’s quite the remarkable young lady, every bit as impressive and articulate as Marie and Jay said. It’s hard to believe she’s only, what? Fourteen?”

“Yup, fourteen,” Karen said with a touch of pride.

“Amazing! Fourteen, no previous education or formal exposure to art, and we were talking about Monet’s role in the growth of the Impressionist movement.”

Laci twisted uncomfortably, embarrassed at being the center of such attention and praise. “You guys are being foolish,” she mumbled, and she whipped out her phone as if to put an end to her participation in such nonsense. “You can keep being silly, I’m gonna see where Emily is,” and she turned her attention to sending a flurry of text messages.

“That,” Karen said with a wry smile, “is the end of that.”

Evan laughed with gusto. He was, Karen mused, not only extremely handsome, but just as charming. Both he and Jay certainly broke the hearts of straight women wherever they went.

When Laci stepped aside to focus on her texts without interference, Jay sidled up to Karen while munching on a gooey cinnamon roll. “Oh my, Karen, you simply have to try one of these rolls. I won’t let you out of this house until you do. They are so decadent they ought to be illegal.”

“You do realize that ‘Decadent’ is really code for ‘extremely fattening.’”

“Do I look fat? Try one.”

Laci’s smile lingered when she turned away from the adults so intent on singing her praises. The adult praises hardly fazed her, but not for the reasons they likely thought. No, it pleased her for far more basic reasons. It showed the cared about her. Adults – smart, educated, mature, stable, adults – who actually, truly cared for and about her. Even Mr. B’s husband, who she’d only just met, gave her a feeling of genuinely caring about her, as if he were an old friend.

Having grown-ups who truly cared about her, even loved her, was still a novel feeling for Laci. She hoped she never took it for granted. No, that was never going to happen, not after a lifetime of constant, grinding willful neglect, and outright violence. Having at last tasted it, love was much too sweet to take for granted.

She sent Emily a flurry of texts, her fingers whirling as she tapped out the message almost as fast as speaking it would take. Texting was just another form of conversation. It came as readily and effortlessly as speech, and just as rich in emotion and subtlety in its own way.

When Laci looked up from her phone, she found she’d wandered into a part of the house Mr. B hadn’t showed off on his tour. It was the solarium. She broke into a smile at the sudden awareness of such a ... a wonderful place! It was bright and sunny with a fieldstone floor, casual furniture scattered about in an equally casual pattern. There were plants in beautiful earthen pots, some with carvings that might be faux-hieroglyphs, or some other ancient form of sculpture; more sat ensconced in pots that were adorned with elaborate carvings that looked like something from an obscure Amazonian native tribe, and still others in receptacles that looked like they came from somewhere like ancient China or Japan or some other exotic place in Asia.

The truly wondrous part was the veritable jungle of exotic plants hanging from the antiqued metal framework holding the curved panes of glass spanning the entire room. And the plants! Oh my! She had absolutely no idea what any of them were, but that only made them all that much more striking and fantastic. There were deep green vines tortuously entwining along an obscured latticework, cascading ferns, thick, robust variegated succulents, and an array of what must have been a hundred different flowers of every shade and color of the rainbow, and bizarre shape imaginable.