A Time Capsule To Call My Own

I know.  This is a gardening blog and this post will not exactly be a gardening one – but I will try and find a connection.  It may be a stretch, but it will be a gardening connection of sorts.  Besides, how often can anyone say that they’ve had the chance to meet themselves – or at least their 20-year-old self?

In past posts, I’ve explained that there is a cement crawlspace behind a closet in my house.  It’s my winter storage bunker for elephant ears and canna.  What I never told you is that my perfectly dry and evenly cool space also holds some boxes and crates filled with my past.

I’ve always thought about cleaning things out, but whenever I’m in the bunker, I’m either loading or unloading plant materials – and gardening, like time and tides, waits for none.  So, my past has remained undisturbed for the 25 years that I have lived with Joe.

Until the other day, that is, when a local cable guy arrived to rewire the house and I had to empty out the bunker – without the excuse of elephant ears and canna.  My personal time capsule would, at last, be opened.

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