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Gravel cracks underfoot and the smell of sweet Italian sausage and peppers wafts through the air. A guitar strumming mixes with the hum of crowds of people chatting, packing under the five largest green and yellow umbrellas you could imagine – enough to fit at least six picnic tables underneath each. Patrons don baseball caps and swaths of sunscreen to keep the suns rays from beating down too hard as they navigate from one tent to another, searching for the perfect treasure for their own collections.
Three times a year, the Brimfield Flea Market takes over downtown Brimfield, creating a mecca for antique savants and novices alike.
I grew up going to the flea market at least once a year. My mother, an avid antique collector and lover of all things with rich history and character, would load up my brother, Alec, and me into her car and we’d set off on an adventure for treasure, buried within countless tents scattered across our neighboring community.
Going to the flea market was always an experience. I was in it for the fried dough at one of the many food trucks on site. Mom would treat Alec and I to a delicious lunch from one of the copious trucks as a reward for helping her search for the item of the year.
Usually, we would set off on our trip knowing what we were looking for. The early years had us searching for Corelle Spring Blossom dinnerware: plates, cups, bowls, saucers and more that are all white with a beautiful, trimmed ring of green daisy-like flowers around the edges. Once we found enough dishes to furnish our lake houses kitchen, we moved on to some larger pieces – for instance, a kitchen table made by the folks at Carolina Farm Table. Then came a wrought iron outdoor dining set and wrought iron rocking chairs that my father (who owns his own sandblasting business) took from rusted and paint chipped to brand-new and glossy.
Alec and I didn’t often find anything that we wanted for ourselves – we were there to be additional eyes for my mom. One year, though, when my brother was around 5 years old, at the first booth we walked into he found a wooden, carved tiger head. It was a beautiful little carving that could hang on a wall. Alec begged my mom to buy it for him – it wasn’t too expensive. She told him that he’d probably find more items he’d want along our trip and if he bought the first thing he saw, he wouldn’t be getting anything else. She said when we came back at the end of our day, if it was still there, she’d buy it.
All day Alec was talking about his tiger, wishing he already had it, and couldn’t wait to get back to the first booth. He practically ran into the tent as we approached it a mere four or five hours later, and – of course – to his dismay, the tiger was sold.
Boy, did he tear up.
Alec still talks about that tiger to this day at his ripe old age of almost 26. We all laugh about it now, and my mom always remarks that she “doesn’t know why she just didn’t buy it.”
Small in the scope of life, as we say.
In this summer, July edition of Go Local we feature the Brimfield Flea Market (coming to town July 9-14!), along with the Forest Park Zoo, Elemental Yoga and a listing of many local farmers markets in Mass. and Connecticut. Whatever your pleasure, Go Local July will get you out and active in the community, enjoying the fresh, warm air and perhaps finding your own treasure (maybe even a wooden tiger…) along the way.
Thanks for reading,
Payton North, Executive Editor
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