Indeed, it is SPRING! My heart pulsates to the music of cardinels, redwings, robins, mourning doves, sandhill cranes, Canada geese, and other skyward signs of the season.
There is another sign—or rather a plethora of SIGNS—which soon will pop up in yards all over the little communities in our vicinity. They may vary in wording—RUMMAGE SALE, GARAGE SALE, ESTATE SALE, YARD SALE, or whatever. But these signs all mean the same thing: absolute, abject BLISS!
I think some folks endowed with a sense of humor cackled when Joe and I moved to a condo last fall, after we had lived in fairly roomy houses for over fifty years of our marriage. “HA,” these individuals reasoned. “Now she’ll have to stop collecting!”
Well I am having the last “HA”. We had scarcely unpacked our 280 moving cartons last fall when we discovered that we were smack dab in prime rummage country, and we dug right in—always coming home from a Saturday morning foray with one more thing to stick in a bare spot somewhere.
Now we are relishing the realization that rummages will resume, any moment now. There is alway room for more STUFF—somewhere, somehow! I call it “uncondo-ing the condo”.
Sometimes I don’t know which I enjoy most—the treasure hunts resulting in adding fresh decor to our home, or the raised eyebrows and eye rolling of those folks who “just don’t get it”. When people unversed in the joy of junking visit our home, they look perplexed—even distressed.
But most fun of all, are those few individuals who “do get it”. They may be practically strangers in terms of longevitiy of friendship, but something snaps when they enter our home. These kindred spirits move quietly from room to room, wall to wall, and corner to corner—studying every detail with intense interest. Appreciation and a sense of freedom are written on their faces.
Appreciative visitors experience THE GREAT AHA as they wander through our home as if it were a museum. They know that, when it comes to interior decorating, “MORE IS MORE”.
There is a nasty word out there, for those of us who love rummaging and junking. We are called “hoarders”. Never mind. We are a mighty army of individuals who find beauty in things that the trendy folks cast off. We are a brigade of non-materialistic “materialists” who value things for their sentimental implications, memories evoked, funki-ness, and unsung beauty rather than for their status or price. You will not find the latest and most fashionable in our homes (or on our bodies, for that matter). But you will find the most fun in our lives—as expressed in our homes and personalities.
We are never bored—always alive to whatever we see, hear, smell, touch, or imagine. We are an esoteric sorority and fraternity bonded by our enjoyment of stuff. We share a priceless gift of creating beautiful arrangements comprised of whatever the trendy people throw away.
Maybe we collectors are hoarders: hoarders of dreams, memories, and fun. Hoarders of pizzazz and panache unearthed in everyday life! Hoarders of quality of life! But unlike the quintessential hoarder in fact and fiction, we junkers are hoarders who share! We love to share our home, our stuff, and our joie de vie with whomever will slow down long enough to appreciate!
So here’s to my “sisters and brothers” in JUNK: Karen, Betty, Judy, Alicia, Sandy, Barbara, Julie, Andy, and countless others. Here’s to author/photographer Mary Randolph Carter and her wonderful junk books which keep me vicariously and happily junking even in winter.
ANY MOMENT NOW! 🙂
Margaret L. Been—All Rights Reserved
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