In the garden, near the bird bath and beneath the trumpet vine is a tiny secluded space, where only the occasional turtle or earthworm wander. In this spot is a rustic, hand hewn plank of wood anchored to a wall. There are leather strap hinges and a found object pull. Otherwise, it is just flotsam in the pile of dead leaves and twisted vines that make up this corner of an urban garden.
As with most happenings in this little corner of the world, the comings and goings through this portal are never noticed by the near sighted inhabitants of this earthy realm. If they only knew the wonders that lie beyond.