As promised, here’s a rundown on last week’s Field Trip Friday—Laure Ferlita and I checked out the Fancy Flea Vintage Home & Garden Market.

The Fancy Flea is an “upscale outdoor vintage show” that takes place twice a year at the Strawberry Festival grounds in Plant City, Florida (between Tampa and Orlando). The show featured booths filled with shabby chic items, garden art, plants, antiques, salvage, handmade jewelry and lots of other interesting bits and bobs. There was also music and a food truck rally.

The Fancy Flea booths were all out in a field at the Strawberry Festival grounds, and though there was some shade, we were very grateful for the cloudy skies, since it has been summer hot already, and neither Laure nor I felt 100% that day. But we’d planned this little excursion for weeks, so we were determined to complete it, even if conditions weren’t just right. We were both in need of playtime and creative well filling, so we hauled ourselves out of our comfortably air-conditioned homes. 

Neither of us had explored the Fancy Flea before so it was fun to see what types of vendors and merchandise would be there. Unlike Renninger’s, there were more arty/crafty/repurposed décor items than antiques or true flea market “junk.” It took us a couple of hours to slowly wander the aisles. Our only purchase was some little packets of cancelled stamps to use in future art projects. We both bought some and shared with each other.

This cute metal sculpture

Laure asked me at lunch later if there was anything I regretted not buying. In thinking it over now, I regret not asking the price of a couple of shadow boxes that caught my fancy…at the time I was irritated that the prices weren’t marked, and I decided I didn’t care enough to track down the stall owner and ask. I don’t need anything, and I don’t even really want very much. I’m more concerned with getting stuff out of my house than in bringing more in. So I mostly just enjoyed looking at the bright colors and creativity demonstrated by the people selling there. My favorite things included mini succulent or herb gardens created using baskets and other unusual containers. (I didn’t take photos because I didn’t think the vendors would appreciate it—since I plan to duplicate their efforts with items I already own!)

So even though we came home mostly empty-handed, we enjoyed the chance to drink in the colorful creativity of others, to leave our desks and drawing tables and hopefully, spark some new creativity in ourselves. That’s all I ask of Field Trip Friday.

“I urge you to please notice when you are happy, and exclaim or murmur or think at some point, ‘If this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is.’”

—Kurt Vonnegut

Introduction by Ted Kooser: I don’t think I’ve ever sold anything that, later, I didn’t wish I had back, and I have a list of regrets as long as my arm. So this poem by Melissa Balmain really caught my attention. Balmain lives in New York State, and her most recent book is Walking in on People, from Able Muse Press.

Love Poem

The afternoon we left our first apartment,

we scrubbed it down from ceiling to parquet.

Who knew the place could smell like lemon muffins?

It suddenly seemed nuts to move away.

The morning someone bought our station wagon,

it gleamed with wax and every piston purred.

That car looked like a centerfold in Hot Rod!

Too late, we saw that selling was absurd.

And then there was the freshly tuned piano

we passed along to neighbors with a wince.

We told ourselves we’d find one even better;

instead we’ve missed its timbre ever since.

So if, God help us, we are ever tempted

to ditch our marriage when it’s lost its glow,

let’s give the thing our finest spit and polish—

and, having learned our lesson, not let go.

Today we are having all our carpets cleaned. This means the whole house is torn apart, the animals are disturbed, it’s noisy, and my usual Monday routine has been upended. That’s the bad news.

The good news is: our carpets will look like new and I will feel like I got something major accomplished from my to do list (never mind that I’m not doing the actual cleaning).

I feel untethered—without my usual Monday activities performed in their usual order. Sometimes, untethered is good. Sometimes I narrow my vision too much, and become inflexible. Routines can become so ingrained that I lose all my creativity and joy in the doing.

I don’t want to throw all my routines to the wind, but maybe, just for today, I will. Maybe today I’ll binge read Janice MacLeod-Lik’s blog. Maybe today I’ll write a poem. Maybe today I’ll lounge around and finish reading Rex Stout’s Death of a Doxy. Maybe I won’t do one more blessed thing that could be considered productive.

It poured last night, so I expected the air to be soupy this morning, but it’s surprisingly cool and fresh. As I walk, hear birds chirping, see cardinals, a catbird, and a blue jay flitting about. I also see a hawk glide silently to a perch high in tree.

Since I’m alone and not walking for exercise (i.e., fast), I notice things I frequently miss: the way the traffic along the main road near us hums almost harmoniously; the large shell ginger plants outside someone’s backyard, heavy with flowers; star jasmine scenting my own backyard. I see places where wild hogs have rooted through the woods looking for food. When I look up, I see spring green leaves forming a canopy over the path. Simple pleasures usually lost in the hurry of daily living.

I’m lucky enough to have a quiet, safe place to walk right in my community—I can walk right out my back gate onto a paved trail. I usually take it for granted. Even worse, when I do use it, I almost always only use it for exercise—making the loop as quickly as I can instead of taking it slowly, exploring, noticing. As part of my focus on delight this year, I plan to take more of these short, rambling walks. At least until the heat and humidity make it impossible to enjoy. I know that day is coming, and soon, but until then, I’ll indulge in a few more relaxed morning walks. Who knows what I might discover?