We woke up before the roosters crowed. The truck was packed the night before. We were sleepy and a little grumpy.
I stopped my grumbles, and decided to make this an adventure day, right about at this point...
Like magic, the cool wind blew on my face waking up my senses as we headed out to civilization. I always have a feeling of melancholy when I travel in the dark. Long ago vacations, nights out, Maybe from my trips from NH to FL to visit my grandmother, 5 of us kids fighting for who got what seat. I liked the back of the station wagon. The road noise would hush away the excitement and lull me to sleep.
Next thing I know there are lights. If you live in the country, you live in the dark. Not may street lights. None on the road I live on. Lights and Rusty, going in the convenience store, 3 towns over. Here he is,with the coffee poor guy. I followed him with a camera all day. He only made jokes about me being a blogger with the other victims people I photographed.
Then we arrived at the place and set up. I love the flea Market. I love the people and the stuff. I brought some of my stuff to sell, trade or barter. Rusty gets annoyed when people come with their flashlights before we get set up, looking in the truck bed. I greet them and then ignore them until I am set up. If they want a price, I give it t them. I am not rude, nor do they bother me. There is a flashlight charge, you see. The pewter pot and the baggie full of buttons sold.
When we finished setting up all of our stuff. I went for a walk. I ran into some old smurfs. I think one of the kicked Elmo in the private place. I swear I didn't stage this. A blue care bear was being a poser. (I learned that word poser from my kids, it is probably not cool anymore.)
"Smurfy, Elmo doesn't like to play that game!"
There were shadow people and horses cut from wood. Some dead Teletubbies too.
And gorgeous glass. I almost bought the three closest blue pieces. She said all three for $8.00. I hadn't sold anything by then, so I had to pass. I can't go into the negative numbers, or I will loose my driver. I would have bought some milk glass, if they had tumblers, but she didn't, so I carried on, looking and taking pictures.
Several people asked me if I was from The Bluefield Telegraph. Those who asked, I told them that I do a blog about my life in West Virginia. For the others, I pretended (in my mind) that I was this cool reporter, you know... reporting on stuff.
The Bluefield Flea Market is held on an old parking garage that is no longer in use. Open every Saturday, from early Spring to late Fall. You drive up, park you truck, set up and pay $6.00.
They sell a little of everything there.
The guy wanted $25.00 for this. If it was $10.00, I would have bought it.
These were crafted by the shadow maker.
There is fresh produce, honey, eggs and fresh baked goods.
You can't go to a WV Flea Market and not see guns for sale. The buyers all stroll around gun rested on the shoulder, and nobody looks twice. I am starting not to either. In FL, they would have called in the SWAT team if anybody would be seen walking casually around in a crowded public place with a weapon. But here, hunting is part of the culture because families are fed on the hunt.
Do I want a big gun... or a bigger gun or...
the biggest crayon! They sell kid's stuff and socks and furniture. It is an adventure.
They even sell God.
The lord is good.
But the lord of the market, not so much today. We took up two spaces. The week before, they guy let me slide and I only paid for one. I was by myself. Just sayin' I am a smokin' hot 48 year old, with poison ivy rash all over me, hair tossed up in a messy ponytail, and in dire need of a pedicure by Sophia, my personal beautician. I still wore sandals, because I am that hot, as in hot flash.
I did make some money, and I bought this chair. Guess how much? Winning guess gets a blog entry all about YOU. (I will interview the victim winner.) I am so happy with my new chair, because I am a chair person. If you are one too, then you know what I mean. Chairs go in every room of the house. Rocking chairs, easy chairs, dining chairs, little rusted child's chairs, all my project chairs that are collecting dust. I have money in my pocket, and an awesome sturdy wooden chair with a rush seat and a high ladder-back. It is sitting at the head of my table right now. I will feel happy every time I see it.
So here is the place. It is located smack dab in a old railroad town on the East River Mountain.
I took some photos on the way out, as my cool old 88 blue Dodge truck roared it's way home.
I love trains, and there is always one there it seems. This one was moving.
Go baby go... (There is Bluefield State College on the other side of the tracks.)
around and up and over the train. Look there is a coal train too!
Heading back homeward, windows down, mountain air blowing with a twist of train engine smell.
To be continued...
Remember to guess how much I paid for the chair. Closest guess gets tortured interviewed by me. :-)