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Creation Saturday! Create a backstory from the strangest thing you've seen at a garage sale. May 27, 2017 The one thing that you have that nobody else has is you. Your voice, your mind, your story, your vision. So write and draw and build and play and dance and live as only you can. Neil Gaiman Read more at: {link: https://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/keywords/story.html} Just going to garage sales, flea markets, or stopping at a yard sale can glean questions and stories about articles on tables being presented for sale. I was strolling through the flea market one Saturday morning. Weather should encourage people on flea market day. Today, the temperature was mild, the sun was shining, plus, a light breeze was keeping shoppers cool. Grandmothers were talking with children about the stuffed animals on a table, while fathers sorted through the tools and mothers haggled about different prices on jewelry and dishes. There were a lot of shoppers at the long lines of merchant’s tables. In my kitchen is a set of dishes that belonged to my mother. They are English china. The set used to include small curved dishes that I used for side dishes. The curved dishes followed the natural curve of the dinner plates. Someone told me they were originally meant as finger bowls. The pattern is small pink roses on white china. Someone stole the small curved dishes. Just those few are gone the rest of the set seems to be complete. At the flea market I came across 6 dishes exactly like the ones I used to own sitting on a table with other odds and ends of dishes. First I just starred at them from the walking lane. Then, I moved in closer. They were stacked neatly on the table in close proximity to the sellers van. As I reached out to examine the top dish the seller exited the van and came over. “Do you like the dishes? I can give you a good price.” I turned the dish over. Stamped on the bottom was a gold crown and the insignia “Johnson Bros. England.” They were the size and shape of my missing china pieces but the little flowers were lavender not pink. The seller was very tall and carrying some extra pounds. I looked straight into his washed out blue eyes, “I don’t want to buy them. I was curious about them because they are exactly like some dishes that were stolen from my home. But, they are a different color. So, I was wondering where is the rest of the dish set?” His eyes narrowed. A smirk spread across his face. He would not answer. He shrugged and turned away back into the van. Can you tell me? Why would people pick a certain type of dish out of dish sets steal just that part of the set and resell them? Even as antiques the value is less if the set is not complete. One day we were traveling home from strawberry picking. I had five dollars left from the strawberry money and I was determined to keep it in my pocket. There was a table set up in a driveway in front of a small cottage, which was set back from the road. The cottage was tiny. It probably had a kitchen, bedroom and living room. Much more could not have fit. A young man was pacing around the table which had a few items on it. We stopped to look at the items. There was a darkly stained wooden box on the table. It looked hand made. There were beautiful patterned carvings on the box. It had obviously been well cared for by someone. When the man saw me admiring the box he offered it to me for five dollars. He said it had belonged to his grandmother who had recently died and he was just trying to eliminate some of her belongings. I would not part with my money. Now, when I watch “The Antiques Road Show” I wonder if he kept the box or how he disposed of it. What did she keep in such a beautiful box? Was it a jewelry box or a tea box, or an herb box? I also wonder if she had died or if he just took it to sell. I can’t remember what I did with the five dollars in my pocket but I remember how I was drawn to that box. I like pottery. Near us in surrounding communities there are potters, and glass blowers. A local college has classes for artists of all kinds. Most of the pottery I find is expensive at least for my pocket. Walking in a flea market one day I found two pottery bowls. Perhaps someone made them for ash trays. They are dishwasher safe and I use them for salad bowls. They are identical in size and shape, surely formed by the same hands. Also, they are fired with an excellent glaze. They are my favorite dishes for salads or pie. A young India teenager was watching over the table. “How much do you want for these dishes?” He was very shy. “Twenty-five cents for any dish on the table”. As I looked around I wondered if he was selling off the household kitchen ware to earn money. I took the two salad dishes and gave him a dollar. I doubt that any one else in that flea market was selling pottery dishes for a quarter. One day we were driving by a yard sale. It was a sunny day in the fall. On the tables I found a piece of barn board with a bird painted on it. I’ve never identified the bird. It could be a shrike, or a cuckoo. The bill is wrong for a shrike and the color is wrong for a cuckoo. Around here a lot of old wooden barns were torn down and replaced with newer models built with metal siding and roofs. The weathered wooden siding from the old barns were gray with age. Artists were inclined to use it to create things. People used it inside homes for accent walls to decorate their homes. I paid one dollar for the painting. “Did you paint this bird it is a very good painting?” As she took my money and laid it in her cash box she retorted, “No, I’m glad someone is taking it off my hands. My sister -in-Law painted it and gave it to me as a gift. I don’t want the ugly thing in my house.” It hangs on a wall in my hall just below a chick-a-Dee painting. The chick-a-Dee is painted on a piece of slate. I found the chick-a-Dee painting in a huge flea market that it takes a most of a day to walk through. I saw it on a table, it was listed for three dollars. I was surprised by the price and there wasn’t any one around. After walking around several rows of tables I decided to go back and see if I could find someone to pay. The first time around a man at a nearby table had watched me examine the painting. When I returned to the row the table was still there but the painting was not visible so I thought I was just lost in the wrong row. Then I saw the same man watching from a different table. “There was a painting of a chick-a-Dee here on a piece of slate. Did someone buy it?” “No, You have the wrong table we don’t have any paintings for sale.” “Is this your table. I’m sure this is the right place.” He had an odd look on his face. Then, he walked over to a nearby truck and pulled out the slate painting. “Is this what your looking for?” “Is it still for sale? “Yes.” “Is it still three dollars?” “I suppose so.” As I handed over my money I queried him. “Did you paint it?” “No. I’m just watching over the table.” “Do you know who painted it.” “No. It could be anyone.” I don’t yard sale or flea market shop often. I’ve been in a “get rid of it” mood for a long time. However, sometimes I like trolling for something that is a piece that makes me wonder who, what, why, when or where. |
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