“It makes me feel a little bit like a part of history,” says Kirkpatrick. “Maybe some great-great-great grandmother or grandfather of my little cutting was in the White House the day [Kennedy] signed the Peace Corps Act.”

The problem is that this story might not be true.

“Unfortunately, we haven’t been able to find evidence of the plant’s origins,” says Abigail Malangone, an archivist at the John F. Kennedy Presidential Library, via email. There are records and photographs of the Irish ambassador presenting Kennedy with a vase of shamrocks, she notes - but not ivy.

The plant may still date back to Kennedy, but no evidence proves it. Barbara Ann Perry, a Kennedy scholar, says the first dated photo she can find of the ivy in the Oval Office is from the Ford administration.

“It does not make sense, does it? For an Irish ambassador to give Swedish ivy,” says Perry, who co-directs the Presidential Oral History Program at the University of Virginia’s Miller Center. “I mean, it’s still possible that the Swedish ambassador gave President Kennedy this gift.”

But the plant isn’t even Swedish. Nor is it actually ivy. Plectranthus verticillatus originates from South Africa, and is classified in the same plant family as mint and sage. There was never just one ivy, either. Multiple Swedish ivies take their turn on the mantel, residing in a greenhouse between tours of duty.

But let’s not complicate the romance. Political symbols often represent what people want to be true, Perry says. Relics are symbols that connect us to an idealized past, but a plant is more than a relic. It’s a little life.

“People want that living representation of having a piece” of the White House, says Perry. “I think that’s a religious feeling. It’s sort of the civic religion of our country, based on the scripture of our Constitution.”

“I do feel that this is a little bit of a legacy I can pass on,” says Kirkpatrick, of his propagations on the Eastern Shore. “I have a responsibility to share this. You know, pay it forward.”

What, then, is the symbolism of greenery replaced by gold?

No, the gold vessels are not golf trophies. They’re artifacts from the White House’s own collection. The central gilded bronze basket, called a compotier, was made in France around 1815 and gifted to the Nixon administration in 1973. To its left and right are a pair of urns from the Monroe Plateau, a set of gilded tableware acquired by President James Monroe in 1817, shortly after the British burned the White House. The outer two sets are from a collection acquired during the Eisenhower administration that are usually displayed in the Vermeil Room, which is named after its contents (vermeil is gilded silver).

Neither the White House nor the White House Historical Association would answer questions about the vessels or the ivy, leaving us to speculate.

Presidents redecorate the Oval Office to suit their tastes, and Trump’s certainly veers toward the baroque. His Trump Tower residence was outfitted in gold. He has worn golden hard hats at his construction sites, and buckles his seat belts with gold-plated buckles on “Trump Force One.” Last month, Trump announced plans to sell U.S. visas for $5 million, a plan his administration is calling a “gold card.”

He just really, really likes gold, and maybe it’s as simple as that.

Or could the plant’s association with Obama have something to do with its disappearance? After all, Kehinde Wiley’s official portrait of Obama shows him amid a backdrop of greenery including ivy (though it does not appear to be Swedish ivy; perhaps it’s Obama’s substitute plant). Many of the cuttings around the country can be traced back to the Obama administration.

We don’t know the answers to these questions, but we do know what happened to the ivy. (Sorry, we could’ve told you sooner, but what’s lore without a little mystery or suspense?) No, the White House staff did not chuck the Swedish ivy in the trash. And no, Trump did not send it to a planter at Mar-a-Lago.

After days of calls and emails to dozens of White House denizens, past and present, we reached someone who could fill us in (on the condition of anonymity because they were not authorized to speak to the media).

The Swedish ivy has been relocated to a greenhouse on White House property, where backup versions have long resided, out of the public eye.

So the disappearance of the ivy isn’t really a mystery. It’s a metaphor - a metaphor that’s corny and obvious, yes, but also needed. The ivy may be gone from the Oval Office, for now, but it lives on with its stewards. Its tendrils twine around Washington and stretch across the country. Its greenery may be in less prominent spaces, but it continues to grow. A chain of hands keeps passing it down. And as long as there are people willing to water and nourish and share it, the ivy will not die.

It just needs a little light.