My husband is on vacation this week, and, except for having to go in for a few hours to facilitate my restorative justice Circle, I have four days off. We are alternating between days spent at home on projects around the house and yard and day trips doing whatever we want to do. Yesterday we went to check out a resort for next summer’s vacation and spent the rest of the day browsing in antique shops. Neither of us are that knowledgeable about antiques, but it’s always fun to see what we can find. He likes to look at coins, old records, and “guy stuff”, and I love furniture and, of course, dishes!
In the second store we were in, I spotted a bench underneath a pile of quilts, and it had been painted the perfect shade of aqua blue to go in my front porch. I could visualize people using it in the winter to sit on when removing and putting on shoes and boots, and I could see it holding a big pitcher of wildflowers in the summer. We looked around the store for a while longer, and, just as I was going back to pick up “my” bench, I heard the clerk say to a young woman, “You’ll really like the bench because it has storage inside”. There were dozens of benches throughout this huge store, so she couldn’t be talking about “my” bench, could she? I went over to where the bench was sitting, and, sure enough, the quilts had been taken off of it and the price tag removed. My sister would have said, “You weren’t meant to have it”, but I sure thought I had been meant to have it – it was perfect!
It took a while for my loss to lose its sting, but, of course, we went on to have a fun day. We purchased a couple of gifts and two small items for our house. When we got home, I realized the clerk had forgotten to put one of the items in the bag, so I will try to call the store today to see if they can send it to me. We ate at a nice little bistro and just enjoyed the beautiful fall day.
On our drive home, I convinced my husband to stop whenever I’d see something I wanted to photograph. He’s starting to catch on and will sometimes spot something before I even do. We found a farm selling pumpkins that still relies on the honor system – they had a big wooden box with a slot in the top for money and a sign with the prices on it. And, of course, what every self-respecting pumpkin stand in America should have – an American flag!
Fall days – ordinary days- heavenly days – the days of our lives. . .