Auction Angel

I went to an auction with some friends the other day.  I have always enjoyed going to sales like this.  I was introduced at an early age to auctions by my mother.  She started taking me when I was small and I caught the fever from her.  I don't think she could pass up a bargain if her life depended on it.  Of course, it helped that she and my dad started collecting antiques long before it was popular in our part of the country.  Most people just called it 'that old stuff'.

Andy and I have a great love for 'that old stuff'.  The picture above is just one corner of the room where our auction a few years ago was held.  Looking at the pictures now makes me smile.  I know several people who bought some of my favorite things.  And that makes me happy.

The strange thing that happened at the auction this weekend was our bidding number.  When we signed the sheet, the cashier gave us a card with 711 on it.  That made me laugh and think how absolutely fitting it was.  711 was my mom's "lucky number".  It was our house number at home.  Mom put it on her license plate every year.  And she always used it when she had to write a random number for anything. 

When I saw it on the card for this auction I thought, "Guess my auction angel is with me today."  I do not have the buying fever that my mom did.  My little house can't hold too much more.  I go to auctions to see what is available, maybe find a little thing or two that strikes my fancy. But as far as loading up with boxes of 'stuff', no way, no how.

As the items came up for sale, I couldn't help thinking of Mom, my auction angel.  If she were there she would be poking me and urging me to bid on some nice piece of glass or pottery.  Some unusual thing would have caught her eye and she would have kept up the bidding war until she had it. 

I think it's called the love of the chase.  I have it.  But luckily, I am a 'looker' and not a 'buyer'.  Thanks Mom for giving me a life-long appreciation for the finer things in life.  Thanks for being my 'auction angel'.

Dreaming

Sometimes when the east wind blows no good thing your way, you have to dream.  When snow flies by your window, ice covers the porch and walk, you have to hope.

You bring out the pictures and books and catalogs that remind you of a warmer, sunnier time.  A time when butterflies found nectar in the blooming flowers that grew in your garden.  A time when you could take off your shoes and feel the cool green grass rubbing off the tiredness of the day.

Sometimes you can close your eyes and hear the rushing stream that you climbed down the steep hill to see.  You can feel the cool breath of spring water as it escapes from the hidden cave.  And you can see the sparkling minnows as they flash their sides, turning and racing there in the shallows.

Dreaming, dreaming.  That is what makes the unbearable, bearable.  That is what gives us hope even when the days are dark and drear.  Somewhere the sun is shining.  And one day it will shine on us again.