The excitement shimmered in the cold January air. Hundreds of foot prints made a path in the deep blanket of snow to a rambling pole barn. A wooden Indian greeted us at the door with the aroma of coffee, donuts, and a scent that only old things carry. The low rumble of conversation filled the space with hope, desperation, and conspiracy. People mingled around the room or floated like butterflies from table to table, caressing, examining, and taking notes. It was a day date for my husband and I, and we were at an auction.
Now, some of you might snicker over the location of our date. Truth be told, once upon a time, I would of too. Then this small town girl who was a wanna be city slicker, married a farm boy. But we will be getting into that in some upcoming posts. Back to the story.... er.... day date. My hubby knew what he was doing and it is one of the fondest memories I keep close to my heart.
I love old things. I love the mystery that the items are cloaked in..... Where did it come from? How was it made? What was it's purpose? These are the questions running through my mind as I lightly trace my fingers over it's surface. There is usually something that calls to me. The patina of the wood, a gentle curve of a frame, or the heavy smooth weight of the piece. I look at garage sales, I look at resale shops, and sometimes the side of the road. But my favorite place is at a farm auction. These are generations of pieces of somebodies lives. They made a home with these items. They have witnessed the good and survived the bad. And I can't wait to find out their story.
That day, as Farm Boy and I walked around, my vision was filled with a life time of collecting. The previous owner had literately been a collector. OF EVERYTHING. I watched people with notebooks biding and crossing things off the list. Piles of bids won were being stacked in corners to sit under a watchful eye. My stomach hurt as boxes full of treasures went for next to nothing. Then the moment happened.... I raised my hand to bid. Never mind that my hubby was on the other side of the room watching a item of interest, or that I didn't even have a bidder's number. All I remember is that it was a box full of pictures in a grouping with a very large (over the fireplace large) framed picture of a young woman. The scrapbook side of me was oohing and ahhing, while the family tree side was flipping out that someone was selling family photos. Well.... I won the bid. And then my pile started to grow. We left with a loaded down vehicle and lots to talk about. That was 2 years ago. I have since resold most of what we purchased and have Farmboy on the look out for more. NOT that I have to twist his arm to much, that man is an auctionoholic. lol.
With my love of old things and natural inclination to create, I took it a step further this month. I have rented space at a local antique store. You can view my booth, along with all the others, at www.reincarnationresale.com.
Till next time......
