Over the years I had often seen a woman at the boot sale, and wondered about her. She was beautiful, young, but with long snow white hair. Often we would stop to admire the same thing. It made sense then that I would finally meet her at B's house. And find out that she is a mathematician - a code breaker. B was opening a tiny shop in her beautiful little house. There was a pair of scissors for every guest, so that we could all cut the ribbon strung over the doorway.
B is my favourite trader at the boot sale. Her house is a continuation of everything I have always loved about her stall. It is filled with careful consideration. She invited me for fruit cake and Earl Grey tea one day, and told me her life story. I am lucky to know her.
On the day of the opening, the white-haired mathematician was in charge of sales. She did the adding up of amounts in an interesting way. And fast!
She told me yesterday that she and her boyfriend had just returned from Kyoto, where they had seen the cherry blossoms.
Dale the bottle man proudly presented me with a signed copy of his new book. We spoke about our love for blue and white porcelain and where to pick up old shards.
I bumped into Braam and we stood for a while at Bob's stall, ruminating over some African sculptures, as we ate our cheese straws from Rosa's. Bob, as always, doffed his hat.
Ernie tried to convince me to buy a lovely kelim, but I wasn't in a buying mood. He laughed and said: Okay dearie!
These long days. If I arrive home while it's still light, my greatest pleasure is to walk around the garden sipping a gin and tonic, noticing the changes. How a small hawk-eye caterpillar can eat an entire arum leaf in a day and grow proportionately. Baby leaves appear on new plants. The pincushion bushes are budding for their late winter glory. The aloes are magnificent.
I watch the mourning doves after I scatter some seed. There will always be a big guy who'll try to chase the smaller ones away.
But while he turns his back, there will always be others to take his place.
I watch the comings and goings of a cloud of black butterflies. They stayed for three days, then left.
The dozens of reminders that life goes on in its brutal and sometimes beautiful way, whether you want it to or not.
But while he turns his back, there will always be others to take his place.
I watch the comings and goings of a cloud of black butterflies. They stayed for three days, then left.
The dozens of reminders that life goes on in its brutal and sometimes beautiful way, whether you want it to or not.
2 comments:
Lovely, as usual. It's been so long since I was at the market. I finally stopped working full time, so hopefully life will have more time for pottering around Milnerton and such. But first non-job job is to get rid of some of my own accumulated junk - I'll need to ask your advice sometime on best way to go about it.
Thanks D.
I was planning to take all of my junk to the auction house, but Braam jumped in and bought it all. It was a good deal - I should write about it! He's always interested, so I could connect you guys. (I'm so bad, I might come and look at your stuff and leave with half of it...)
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