Just call me a relic. That’s right — rub it in — I’m obsolete. And guess what. Some of my best friends are equally archaic. And here comes the confession — my garden is a total museum. If something is old (the older, the better), I automatically yearn to grow it. It’s not hip, it’s not keeping up with the Joneses, it’s not riding the current wave, but it’s me. And when people come to my garden, they are clearly just being polite…because they seemingly love hearing the stories behind the auricula primroses that Flemish weavers grew during the cottage industry era and the Phlox ‘Old Cellar Hole’ dug up by my friend at Perennial Pleasures Nursery from an abandoned homestead.