There is a time portal in my back yard. It looks deceptively like an ordinary grape trellis arched over the wooden gate leading to my rose garden. However, it harbors the magic to transport me back through time and space to my grandmother’s grape arbor—the way it was when I was five years old.
Grandma’s grape arbor was a mystical green tunnel. It spanned the distance between the bottom steps of her back porch and the gate that led to the vegetable garden. My childhood memory tells me that it went for at least a mile. I know now that it was about 15 feet long.
Each year, I watched with awe its transformation from a wire archway lined with brown dead sticks to a green leafy passageway of graceful vines and grasping tendrils. And, when the clusters of tiny green pearls swelled into huge clusters of purple balls, it was a true miracle. It was my favorite place to play in late August.
The arbor was a shady retreat from the heat. It was alternately my doll house, secret hideout, magic cave, and private sanctuary for drawing, coloring, and dreaming. The dancing leaf shadows on the walkway required an impromptu version of hopscotch. I like the challenge of keeping up with the changing patterns when a breeze jostled the leaves.
In early September, the heavy purple fragrance of ripe grapes filled the tunnel. Though I often tried for more, I could squeeze only two or three plump grapes into my mouth at one time. Even then, there was often a juice overflow that trickled down my chin.
I can almost hear the clinking of the canning jars as Grandma scalded them in the kitchen. The pungent aroma of the simmering kettle of grape jelly and jam blended with the smell of the melted paraffin used to seal the jars. This was the time I loved best—the harvest.
My own grape arbor bears little resemblance to Grandma’s. I’m intent on teaching my vines the intricacies of weaving in and out of the trellis, but they seem only slightly interested. Instead, they mostly run out of control, climbing over the wall and up the cherry tree. This year, they are going to great lengths, literally, to start a new journey—up the blue spruce. While it falls short as a grape arbor, it excels as the gate through which this time traveler enters her special place.
I believe that we were created to be such time travelers. We have memories of the past to visit and dreams and visions of possible futures—all of which provide tools to enhance our todays.
Not all time portals appear as grape arbors, and I caution you that they are all around us. I have found them near the swings and slides at city parks, at the zoo, and at the county fair. You may slide easily through them, or you might stumble through them surprised, even bewildered, by the journey. But, you will encounter them. Maybe you already have.
By the way, yesterday I found another time portal in my back yard. It is near the pumpkin patch.