My husband mocked me for buying a little enameled egg at the flea market, but he was in for a big surprise.
First off, I have to tell you I’m a flea market junkie. I can’t help it, I just love the idea of browsing through the flotsam and jetsom of a hundred lives, and among the discarded trash find a lost treasure.
It all started when I was just eleven and would spend the summers with my grandmother in New England. On the weekends she and I would haunt every flea market or street fair for a hundred miles around, looking for ‘preloved jewels,’ which is what she called her finds.
Let me tell you that even today as a mother and grandmother nothing gets my heart pumping like scrounging through a tray of bits and pieces and finding a glint of something that tells me I’ve struck gold.