Yesterday my heart started racing. I felt myself get more and more giddy as Tim & I wandered the aisles of a roadside stop we made in Vermont. I think I was on the edge of hyperventilating and I’m pretty sure I squealed. As we walked the rows and rows of primitive antiques, architectural pieces, and odd-ball collectibles, I found myself half-prancing on tip toe.
I couldn’t contain my excitement. I don’t quite know what came over me but I felt a tremendous amount of joy as I encountered rare treasures that can only be found in New England. Well, maybe they can be found other places but I somehow felt close to the source. I felt more than a little connected to the Yankee woman who baked the desserts that cooled in this pie safe. I visualized the man who carried the rugged green toolbox that sat on the floor. I imagined the butcher block in the kitchen of a colonial home nearby.
But mostly I felt excited.
While I am on the hunt for the rare and wonderful additions to the Found collection, I also have some personal interest in my picking adventures. As I stared at the myriad of options yesterday, I couldn’t decide if I need a cabinet in my living room, a hutch in my kitchen, a wood burning stove (who doesn’t?), or 10-foot tall French doors for a rainy day.
As I was shuffled out at closing time, I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face even though I left empty-handed. Perhaps it was because my mind was racing with possibility. It could be because I could imagine how cool a touch of New England would be in every room of my house.
Maybe it was because I knew I’d be back and next time I will leave with my hands full.
p.s. So you can contextualize my overly-excited I’m-in-love-with-New-England-especially-in-autumn picking frenzy, here is the view from the house where we’re staying in New Hampshire.