Brimfield

Brimfield. Another year. I can’t even tell you at this point how many times I’ve been. The trips have blended into one another. And the stuff! It all starts to look the same, but yet I keep going back. Why? The crowds are manageable, the weather cool and comfortable and there is an endless and wild amount of things to look at and poke through. Plus it’s just fun to be outside for the day walking about. 

Arriving is always a bit overwhelming and at some point you just have to dig right in. My husband is better at this than I am. I tend to circle the field we’re in and then go back and try to focus in on something. At first, if it wasn’t a collection of artfully displayed items, then forget it. There was no focus. It was a serious case of sensory overload. Ha! 

But eventually I find my groove, something catches my eye and I fall into a rhythm all my own. At this point I start to wander off with purpose. Eyeing this and that.

Although there is a good part of the day where I’m still unsure of why I came and if there is anything I even really want.

Some things call my name, but with no real desire to own it. Just to glance at it for a while, touch it, and take lots of pictures. The guy selling these Union Jack chairs got a little chuckle out of my snapping photos of these from every angle. That’s truly where a big part of the joy is. Just being. Creating a little bit of art among art…

…and drooling over some of the same things year after year. Tents like this always draw me in. It’s a guaranteed stop. 

And then I ask, ‘Honey, can you make me one of these?’ The poor man! These clocks are there every year and are so overpriced ($5k and it’s brand new and the quality is so so), but I look anyway. The right one, will come across my path, at the right time. I’ve learned there is no hurry. 

By the end of the day I was loopy, laughing and plum tired. This Superman tricked me three times — each time out of the corner of my eye I thought he was real. When we drive away, I can’t help but think who buys all these bizarre things, not to mention the person who drives around the country trying to sell them. Oh, the wonders of Brimfield.

Sweet May Days

May is the sweetest month. Filled to the brim with goodness. It also happens to be my birthday month, which helps. The past few days have been overflowing with moments of deep contentment. 

The loveliest cards have come by hand and mail, bringing tears to my eyes. There’s a small stack of books that I am treasuring and enjoying alongside freshly brewed tea and homemade hazelnut spread (with all raw ingredients to boot). 

And don’t even get me started on all the blooms. I am obsessed. 

A Tale of Three Bunnies

There’s nothing like being startled first thing on a lazy Sunday morning by your husband banging on the outside of the window. I was relieved to see he was in one piece and not bleeding, but then was equally startled to see bunnies hopping around every which way. Said husband, accidentally disturbed a nest. After rebuilding the nest, settling in three out of the five bunnies that couldn’t be out hopped, we anxiously awaited dusk and their mama to return. She came, but never entered the nest to feed them. 
After a call to the bunny hotline [yes, they have such a thing], a sleepless night and a 6am nest check, these furry babies needed some attention in the form of food. We scooped them up, brought them in and nursed them with droppers of pedialyte – per the experts. 
We are simply not people who in a situation like this, let Mother Nature take it’s course. And it’s in moments like these I am reminded that our souls are meant to for one another. But I digress.  
This is when the the tale of three bunnies turned into planes, trains and automobiles. As luck would have it, the rehab lady was in town, next door to where I work!!!!! These little guys were packed back up with a hot water bottle in their box and went in the car, the bus, up 28 flights in the elevator and lived under my desk [and through the fire alarm going off – of all days] before we headed back down to meet the rehab lady in the building next door. 
We even managed to charm three security guys and two state troopers [and by charm I mean I teared up, held them tight and wouldn’t let anyone touch my box of bunnies – yes we were a sight] into letting us into the building without them being sent through the X-Ray conveyor belt. All this only to find out the rehab lady, in preparing for her expo for the day, forgot the formula she promised to bring [insert the mother of all sighs]. 
My nerves, patience and strength were tested in many ways today, but it was probably nothing compared to what my furry babies – for a day – went through. I was determined to give them a fighting chance. And in case you are wondering, the rehab lady made an agreeable plan on how to care for them at which point I reluctantly let them go off into the world. Walking away, my heart broke and my inner five year old burst into tears. Let’s just say the security guys didn’t make eye contact after that.  
Moral of the story? I promise there is one. When you moms out there talk about wearing your hearts on your sleeve or chest when you have a baby, I can now ever so slightly understand what this is like. It takes a brave, beautiful soul to lovingly raise a child. 
A happy, albeit early, Mother’s Day to all you moms out there.