Thoughts after a Vermont estate sale today.
Today I went to a northern Vermont estate sale located in a breathtaking setting....dirt roads, fields of lupines and old lilac trees, birds of every kind, a patchwork of vegetable and flower gardens. The serenity was almost overwhelming but my thoughts kept returning to the horrific news of the Charleston, South Carolina church massacre. Neither the windchimes nor the flute music took Charleston out of my mind.
The main room of the house held objects, books and art work representing every form of North Country nature, something I hold very dear. Above a high window was a shelf holding several carved shore birds, below were two large Mason jars stuffed full with beautiful Vermont wildflowers. A Lucite window hanging with etched Queen Anne`s Lace, a crow painting, signs about love and peace, books on what chipmunks do in the winter and how stones in a rock wall have souls. Across the room were antique instruments on a shelf below hand thrown pottery. I knew a person with heart had called this place home.
The photo of Charleston`s racist killer in his apartheid patch jacket kept coming to my mind like an unwanted visitor. I wondered what he was doing there in my thoughts at the same time I had all this natural beauty around me. I was really disgusted with myself for not being able to get rid of him.
But, some events leave us with such a profound sense of sorrow that even a million Mason jars full of wildflowers do no good.