Did you know mice love ivy? I didn’t know either, until a landscaper shared that eye-opening tidbit.

So what’s the big deal? Well, the neighbors behind us have a hillside clad in ivy. Worse yet, the “interloper” keeps trespassing onto our property, making itself at home in our garden. And if you’ve grown ivy, you know it’s invasive, overtaking anything that dares compete.

My husband convinced me to leave a little patch of ivy growing near the house. Since the roots of a century old cedar tree growing nearby usually sucks up all the water, I figured the ivy didn’t stand a chance anyway. Much to my chagrin, it thrived as if the air alone sufficed.

I made the most of the stranger in our midst, even sparing it some water from time to time, while drowning neighboring plants I’d lovingly handpicked: sedum, heuchera, hydrangea, lady’s mantle, hosta and bleeding heart.

I added whimsical touches, ceramic dwarfs peeking out from behind greenery, others sunbathing amidst the ivy. A large, ceramic mushroom completed the scene. My husband fashioned a piece of art from an old window that was missing some panes. At the top he glued colorful, glass squares in a design. Propped against the base of the cedar tree, it welcomes our visitors.

While I tried not to begrudge the ivy its little corner of our garden, I wondered what lurked beneath its sunny, carefree disposition. I didn’t dare dwell on the possibilities. As they say, “ignorance is bliss.”

Well, one day the answer came to me out of the blue — literally.

I was driving from downtown Issaquah in the direction of the Highlands. As I left Sunset heading onto the stretch of highway that passes over Interstate 90, up popped a mouse, glaring at me from the other side of the windshield. Eyes bulging like little black beads, it seemed as panic-stricken as me. Probably more. Afterall, he, or she, was getting blasted by headwinds as I eyeballed it from inside my car.

I kept muttering to myself “Oh, my God!” Followed by, “Don’t get into an accident!” I flipped on the windshield wiper, watching it swipe back and forth at the little beastie. No matter how fast the rubber blades moved, the mouse avoided becoming road kill. Then as quickly as it appeared, it disappeared from sight, leaving me bug-eyed and shaken. Pulling into the parking lot at Home Goods, I exited my car hoping my companion would run for the hills.

Later, Morgan Motors checked my engine for the mouse; they found a nest instead. When my air conditioner malfunctioned that summer, I wasn’t surprised when they found another nest. I left that day armed with a bit of insider information.

Sheets of Bounce placed in the engine keeps the varmint at bay. So now, super-sized boxes of Bounce are a pantry staple. And until the ivy’s gone, Bounce sheets will lie about gathering dust on my hardwood floors as well.

Millie Vierra lives in Issaquah.