Vines~

Rain~drenched vines slip below the beams~

"Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun; Conspiring with him how to load and bless With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run."
~John Keats
Lamia, Isabella, The Eve of St. Agnes and Other Poems,'To Autumn', stanza1.