The back-porch vine — a potato-something — has been growing at Jack-and-the-Bean-Stalk-ian proportions.

It literally grows a measurable length every every day.

It’s difficult to tell, but the middle vine has already, within a week, reached the bottom of our neighbor’s deck — our “roof,” I suppose — and will soon be snaking its way across, eventually to drop down to the banistar and begin weaving in and out of its rails. At least that’s how we’ve run the guide wire.