My toboggan days are far behind me; not only are our winters in the Northeast too warm for those epic snow days that I used to remember as a kid, but I'd argue that my "golden years" of gearing up to get a chilling adrenaline rush are long gone.
When people first walk into my home, they are often overcome by all the green. To most people, I'd imagine it feels as if they're walking through a forest, and it's challenging to focus on everything that's going on within their surroundings. I say this only because most people walk out without ever noticing one of my favorite DIYs, which is a vintage wooden steel runner flexible flyer-converted-plant and pot shelf in my kitchen.
Granted, the sled is something that's hard to spot. I've let my heart-leaf philodendrons (Philodendron scandens oxycardium), Goldheart Ivies (Hedera helix 'Goldheart') and English ivy (Hedera helix) run rampant and completely overtake the station. Instead of pinching back the Philos and keeping them nice and bushy or pinning back the ivy, I've let them drape and climb like misbehaved children at the playground.
This creates an interesting cooking dilemma. If I choose to use my vintage, Cecilware cookstove, then I'm literally cooking amongst the leaves. I'm sure others would find this to be a hassle—perhaps even worrisome, particularly having the leaves so close to the stovetop, but I adore the ecosystem. In fact, my kitchen, though tiny, may actually be one of my favorite rooms in my apartment. In my opinion, it's the one room, which the plants have become most integrated into their surroundings. They essentially made it their own. 🌿