Ivy kneels beside the ivy-covered wall and presses her ear against the cool brick. A rustle answers her — then a voice whispers, "What do you call a leaf that tells jokes? A stand-up comic!" Ivy drops her pail.
The ivy shivers with laughter. Ivy sits on the brick path and asks the ivy to tell another joke. "Why did the acorn grow up to be a comedian? Because he wanted to become a little nut!"
Ivy giggles so hard her shoelace comes untied. She ties it again, slower this time, and asks for one more.
The ivy rattles off a string of silly jokes while Ivy hops from brick to brick, trying to keep a straight face.
"What do you call a flower that tells knock-knock jokes? A daffy-dilly!" Ivy laughs until she falls onto her back, grass stains blooming on her knees like dark green flowers.
Suddenly the ivy goes completely still. No rustle, no whisper, no joke. Ivy taps the leaves gently. "Hello?" A single green leaf trembles.
The leaf whispers, "I ran out of jokes." Ivy thinks for a moment, then grins and says, "That's okay — I know one."
She tells the ivy the silliest joke she's ever heard. The ivy erupts into the loudest laughter the garden has ever heard.
Leaves clap and vines dance. Ivy and the ivy sit together on the brick path as the sun warms their faces, both of them smiling.
A butterfly lands on the ivy's leaves and seems to giggle too.
Ivy smiles up at the sky. The garden feels just right — full of whispers, and laughter, and little jokes waiting to be shared.
The ivy rustles one last time, as if saying goodnight. Ivy waves, then walks home along the brick path, her pail swinging at her side.