Stories now, to suit a public taste,
must be half epigram, half pleasant vice.
James Russell Lowell
At one time which seems to be a very long time ago now we used to go to an auction in an old converted church bi-weekly, well except during haying time. The auctioneer a colourful character who wore a black vest and black cowboy hat, would announce “Sale Time, Sale Time” a few minutes before the auction was to begin so that everyone could get back to their seats or in this case pews so he could begin. I miss those auctions and that auctioneer, he was very entertaining with the corny jokes that sometimes had tears of laughter running down faces. A nice warm building, delicious pies sold at the canteen and we always came home most times with our truck empty but a smile on our face and great stories to share with our friends.
This cold April morning I am dressed in five layers and wondering if this almost May thing is a joke, the sun which was promised has yet to make its appearance. There are two auctions today so Dios, My Hero and I are off quite early this morning. It does not matter to me what the advertisement in the paper said I go there because there are always stories to inspire, photos to capture and my favourite…people to meet.
This first auction was mostly big equipment which we probably did not need nor could afford but that did not stop My Hero from circling a nice big Red tractor and dreaming about how much fun he would have plowing fields in its comfort not to mention with its sheer size and horsepower it would pull a much larger plow, something all men seem to think is a wonderful thing. I don’t get it.
I stumbled upon a beautiful hood of an old truck it grasped my imagination and held it tight. How did it get to this old shed? Where was the rest of it? Who had rode in it and what adventures were had? Oh I love this old Fargo logo, I find myself wondering if we could buy this old hood and then put it somewhere if only to stir those imaginative thoughts.
Wandering down the hill heading to an old standing tall silo filled with emptiness but also many wonderful stories waiting to be discovered I am in awe of its beauty. I left the boys wandering the top of the hill where boy treasures lie scattered through the field. Something catches my eye at the very bottom of the hill. Tables covered with boxes labelled DONUTS with friendly smiling ladies and a pot of coffee standing behind, I head down.
I said hello and we commented on this cool morning and then I asked about the donuts. “Locally made and fresh” The top was opened one by one on three boxes of sugary goodness and I told them this was the best thing at this sale for me. We all chuckled, and after debating the choices in my head and holding my cravings at bay I bought three. I bid goodbye and thank you and they as well. I headed back up the hill juggling the donuts.
My Hero and Dios apparently anxious to get on to the other sale were pulling down the hill with the truck probably searching for me. I waved my donut filled hand and they stopped. I handed them each a fresh locally made donut that brought smiles to their faces. I climbed in and we headed off to the next auction while nibbling on sugary goodness and each of us wondering what lie ahead.