Tuesday, July 26, 2016


The antique shop is still there after all these years. Across the way from it the farmer let out his cows, black and white ones, and they walked down a short hillside, out from their dwelling, two or three at a time. Then, the group, perhaps twenty or twenty five, stood out there under the sun, the blue sky, the white clouds intermittently placed by some unseen hand here and there in the air. On the way in, is a small road, and there is some large metal piece of something in the ground that they have not fixed. The vehicles have to go over this, - and as I looked closely, I could tell that a tire could be punctured. Why on God’s green earth, when surrounded by farmers, rural types, all the dirt in the world, would someone not cover that up for safety reasons. It would take about ten minutes. People are odd. Mindsets are peculiar. 
Well, I went very, very slowly and stayed to the side, so hopefully the tires are okay. I wondered why the car coming out was waiting, was so hesitant. Now I know. In any event,- the large aisles are still there,- all the items privately owned, stored, priced, and then sold, if ever sold,- like a flea market. There are old cameras, pictures and paintings, albums, chairs, tables. Dozens and dozens of books, records, playing cards, candle holders. All the old kitsch and bric a brac in the world seems to live there, - you name it, - and they have it. It’s cool in there, in both ways. The temperature is cool and they have industrial fans, cement flooring, and lots of shade. Plus, - it’s cool because you can see an oar, a mirror, a lawn mower, a necklace, an anything, - from fifty or more years ago! I took a picture of an old sewing machine, and one of a gas can. I didn’t buy anything, - because wasn’t looking for anything in particular. I was simply on my way back from somewhere else. But I strolled around twice. The workers don’t come out far from their front stall/office. There is only me and the one or two other strangers looking around at the treasures. Treasures to some, junk to others. Depends on what kind of an eye and spirit you have. If there are spirits by the way, - that affix themselves, malevolently or benevolently, to objects and artifacts, - they are there if anywhere! 

Outside again and the light is bright! We found a stray cat around that area once and kept him on. Naturally a farm cat, he liked to be outside. I look at the place briefly that he came up to our van begging for food in the autumn. It’s like a dream now. Up and around and the sky, fields, green and gold mixed, depending where you look, - are vast, - evocative. I take in the pastoral scene, and slowly make my way. The cows are still there and silos catch the sun then glint as if winking. Its silent, then the sound of traffic. Silent again. Car. Nothing. Fierce truck barrelling down. Quiet. A hawk in the distance makes of itself a silhouette against the sky. I go down the long gravel and asphalt way and stop to look at the crumby and slightly dangerous piece of metal that is inside of the ground. I surmise its best to go left when I go, as that’s where it looks most level, - less tooth-like. I take a frame of the sign that says ANTIQUES, and hop back in, still squinting a bit from the bright natural summer light. 


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