Curiosities

Jacob and I walked down to the end of the street this morning for the Sunday morning “Flea Market”. It was wonderful to get out into the cool morning air. It had been so hot in Redding. I am loving the beginning of Autumn.

The first thing that caught my eye was an old rocking horse. Something that has probably made some child or children very happy during the course of its rocking horse life. It brought a smile to me, in its seemingly well loved and charming way. At least that’s how I imagined it. There was a teapot in blue and white…a display of Betty Boop figurines…something that looked like it was inspired by an African mask.  I’m noticing now that the things that stood out to me were things that delighted the little girl in me. 

The whole thing was a little dusty and haphazard in my experience. Many of the displays did not  look particularly doted upon or well arranged.(Although, I did like the Betty Boop display.) But that’s flea markets. Yet here, in the middle of the mish-mash  and castaways were small wonders to look upon. You had to care enough to look. It was all fine by me. I had come for the walk and the fresh air. The curiosities were a bonus.

 “I wonder why people come here,” my husband mused. “They come here because they might find that one treasure.” I said, which he appreciated. They probably also go to  get out of the house and banter with one another. A ritual Sunday morning community gathering.

 “Well said,” he answered. “Maybe that’s why we all come here.” He made a gesture with his hands indicating the world at large…the bigger picture. “To find that one treasure.”

Yes. Perhaps. And if we become curious enough to notice one treasure in our lives, perhaps we grow to appreciate another and another. Then we’re on our way to becoming grateful human beings. And that…that’s magic.

I phoned  my mother afterward and, conveyed along by a train of thought, wondered aloud why it is called a “Flea Market.” I Googled it and found this explanation:

“Flea market comes from the French marché aux puces, a name originally given to a market in Paris. The fleas were thought to be in the goods because they were the kind to attract vermin. The earliest English use we have found dates from 1922.”

In a world where we’re attempting to turn around a trend of disposable things and growing landfills, and a world where people seem to have been talking to each other less and less, maybe the old idea of a Flea Market has a doubly rightful place. There would certainly be stories behind all that “stuff” if it could talk! (I didn’t see any actual fleas or vermin, also a bonus.)

So now it is Sunday afternoon and have told you all about my morning. I hope you are having a lovely Sunday, yourself, and finding many things to be thankful for. I am grateful for a cinnamon roll this morning and signs of autumn and I am grateful to be alive. I am grateful for the bit of sunrise Jake called me over to see from the front door this morning, and for the few moments we stood together to take it in. I am grateful for phone calls with my mother. I am grateful for the walnut tree waving in celebration outside my window as I type this. I am grateful for whimsical things and silly things. I am grateful for you finding your way to my blog so I can say “hello.”