The Container

What a great idea , save the rent and then I'll have a resaleable metal box that has multiple applications. However. Transient vagabond nomads might deposit their ancestors in some unnamed locale but I need to know where to put my stuff. I want it sitting on land I trust will still be owned by a friend when I return. I'm likely incurring a debt: social investment favour wise.
I make some calls and head over to Vancouver where I enlist the help of Tero who drives me out to Surrey to look at various choices. None of which I wanted to bring home although they would have easily done the job.
The ones on the Island just became more reasonable.














More searching. I take the Mill Bay ferry to Brentwood and the Saanich peninsula. Instead of calling first I use google and find myself at another obscure address, outside Vanisle containers dispatch. Carla the dispatcher talks me through the intersections till I find the well hidden location where Tom greets me, shows me in and out, up and around. After inspection, walking on the roof, reviewing the choices, I buy one. I also get a rack for the wall, a fancy new lock and the delivery arranged, coordinating with the land owner. That was easy!
Now where exactly did you say it could go Gabriele?
With a neighbour's backhoe an old house site hidden in the trees is scraped clean of blackberries, light bulbs and various other things. A few branches trimmed, some pier blocks, six 18 ft 2x10's and we are ready.
On delivery day the driver cannot get up Bjorns driveway. He knocks on the door at 6am, not happy. He has a series of jobs following this one.
Elke greets me as I emerge from shower. On the phone Gabriele suggests I might need to be there.
By the time I arrive the container is sitting in plain view out in the field.

I call a few crane truck companies. It is likely we may need a new site. The backhoe is arranged again and a nice garden spot is carved out of the blackberries. It has issues though, can still be seen probably seasonally from the house and it seems to resemble a stream bed or potential pond site. Not looking too level.
I arrive early on the appointed day, place the pier blocks. I ask if it's possible to place it in the first spot. The operator says "yes" if we cut some branches. Get the chainsaw! and a ladder. And more branches are dragged aside.
The metal box slides around the corner sinking slowly, shifting onto the blocks and shims are placed appropriately. The trucker backs out and away. We hang up the shelves, slide in the 2x10s and we're ready to load. I lie down on the shelf, enough room to stretch out and sleep if need be. Let's see, tomatoes would grow well along the south wall here, Maybe a peach tree?
A couple days later it seems to have settled. The pier blocks, somewhat askew. Alan helps me unload more stuff from our storage and fire it into my big box.
We return with a jack and as it lifts, it slides so I stop it right there. Yikes.
It must be twisted, I secure a rope from the topside to a plum tree.
After some big concern, my expert team assures me... no danger, no problem and no worries. Do nothing. Except of course continue filling it.
Another load, then I unload all the camping gear after our trip to Pachena, neatly sandwiched in between.
I deliver most of my wall art to Moni, she 's happy! All the family pictures hidden away, although we have some great laughs reviewing stacks of photos of siblings at various stages of development.
A last load from the storage facility. Elke helps and while I sweep out the cat litter and eucalyptus leaves, she picks blackberries. As we exit the fellow at the gate remarks he will "miss my smile." Why is it I never got his name?

So the saga never ends, as the container sits hidden in the trees frequently visited. We tie up the loose ends; the nightmarish events that create themselves, as entropy and chaos intersecting with intention.