i stumbled upon an old word document the other day…a little something i wrote several years back about the mystic of fleamarket mornings. some things have changed since i wrote this…(i.e. we no longer stay in our little old rv (moment of silence…GoD bless cousin eddie)…but the passion and the soul of the fleamarket, i’m glad to say, is still the same…
here it goes…thought y’all might want to take a gander…
“It was a typical flea market morning…but it felt like anything but typical to us. We were nestled deep in the country…in Warrenton, Texas. Where the population is less than the speed limit, where you can still see the stars so thick at night you could almost pluck them from the sky…and where you can look any direction and see lush rolling hills, covered in grass that looks like rich velvet the color of Kelly green, dotted with grazing cattle and capped off with white cotton candy clouds perfectly placed in a baby blue sky.
This particular morning, there was a crispness in the air and a pure Texas dew on the ground. Amie and I needed to get to the tent early…it was almost opening day of the show and we had a full day of unloading, climbing ladders, hauling furniture, and constructing mini-vignettes ahead. Our alarms unwelcomingly awoke us from much needed slumber at 6:30 am. Home sweet home during the antique show is our junky little RV, affectionately referred to as ‘cousin eddie’. It’s tiny and completely cramped – 2 people can’t pass through the ‘kitchen’ at the same time, one person must sit in the booth seat and let the other pass by- but cousin eddie has been our cozy little home for many an antique show and it’s almost bittersweet to think of other living arrangements.
The sun was just beginning to peak it’s majestic head above the bovine-dotted hills…electric pink, neon orange, and deep purple velvet splattered the sky begging the dew to evaporate and the dense coolness to rise leaving us a beautifully picturesque fleamarket day in the country.
Amie and I threw on our vintage fringe jackets, leather gloves and grabbed the dolly. As we started to walk the mile trek from cousin eddie to our tent, we passed through the fleamarket grounds; we navigated ourselves and the dolly through the geographic terrain of untold junk, sleepy tents, and early rising vendors with their morning coffee. I remember the feeling I had as we walked by some of the funkiest, coolest junk ever….salvaged car fronts with their original paint-perfectly rusty and perfectly one-of-a-kind, vintage letter press pieces all piled in huge buckets, old tubs with funky mannequin legs sticking out of them…I remember looking at Amie as I dragged the dolly behind me and knowing that we both had the same surreal feeling …one of pure joy and gratitude for this life, this day, this morning. It was so beautiful and graceful and perfect that I believe we both almost felt guilty that we could be so lucky. We both smiled and Amie said: “Boy, traffic sure is hell this morning, huh?” That pretty much summed it up.
The rest of the day consisted of indescribable hard work. Our bodies ached, our muscles screamed, we were completely dehydrated and delirious from the manual labor…as we crawled into bed too tired to eat we almost felt like our bodies had been beat. But at the end of this day, we still knew we chose this life, we were the lucky ones…and we were right where we wanted to be.”
see y’all at the fleamarket!!! we open on FRiDAY, sept 23rd at NOON!!!! yeee-hawwwww!!!!