It is reasonable to have perfection in our eye that we may always advance toward it, though we know it can never be reached.
A beautiful peaceful setting for an auction sale was found on the weekend. The locals call this place “The County” which is actually Prince Edward County that is actually an island. There are two ways to get there by car, one by ferry and one by one of the bridges over the Bay of Quinte. Towns with names like Picton, Bloomfield, Cherry Valley and countless others stirred my imagination about how they acquired their names, whizzed by as I stared out the window wondering where we were headed.
Beautiful is an understatement. As we drove down the winding backroads of “The County” we took in the beauty of old homesteads and farms, old barns and glimpses of times gone by. All that, mixed with the progress of wineries and new homes. We finally came to a long line of cars parked on either side of the road. We knew this had to be the place we were seeking.
There, stood handcrafted and antique wooden furniture lined up close to the road and I knew this was going to be a very interesting auction. I am not an expert on antique furniture but I do know what I like. It was indeed top quality workmanship.
After the long drive, my first stop was the food truck to grab a traditional hot dog. My next mission was to find the perfect spot, to sit with my pen and paper preferably in the shade on this hot humid day. My companions (Dios and My Hero) quickly headed to check out the woodworking tools. I wandered around munching that hotdog, admiring the furniture and to search for that perfect spot.
The birds sang and the cool breeze blew across the bay rustling the leaves of the old birch trees that stood nearby. That was when I saw an old oak swivel office chair, which sat beside an old pine desk with its two holes to hold inkwells. The history and the stories that lived in each of those pieces of furniture begged to be told. Stories that I did not know and could write about, but could imagine.
This was the place. It was inspiring and full of the sweet music from birds that sat in the birch trees hidden behind the leaves that rustled. Where, pieces of conversations lingered as the auction goers wandered by and chatted about the beautiful furniture, with its rich history that they could only imagine. The perfect spot to sit, to dream and to write had been found.
I sat in that special place for over an hour, I wrote two stories. I wondered how much this perfect spot would sell for as I thought I would like to buy it and try to capture the magic, which seemed to linger there.
The old oak swivel desk chair sold for 35 dollars, the pine desk with its two holes to hold inkwells sold for 15 dollars. However, the perfect spot was priceless and could never to be bought and was never meant to be mine. Only the moment was to be mine, but only for that day.