Monday, May 17, 2010

Photos from Brimfield

Saturday was sunny, cool, and breezy — a perfect day for walking the fields at the Brimfield Antiques Fair. It was crowded, but many dealers were already packing up their stuff early on Saturday afternoon.

Despite the lovely weather and my good mood, I bought nothing. The only thing I absolutely had to have was a $2 apple fritter. It was everything I hoped it would be.

I saw this shortly after we parked at Quaker Acres:

This is a full-size wicker "parlor casket." Try Googling it, you'll come up with next to nothing. I'd never heard of one. These were used instead of a wooden coffin to transport the recently deceased from the hospital or wherever they died to the undertaker. They were "recycled" and got a lot of use. 

The best thing about this, and I was laughing too hard to remember to photograph it, was not the pathetic little doll's hand sticking out, but the explanatory label taped to the lid. Someone with a wicked Boston accent must have told the dealer this was a "pallor casket." That's how it was spelled! Googling "wicker casket" revealed that new versions of these are actually the trendiest thing in burials these days, for dead people who want to save trees and be composted naturally. Lynn Redgrave was recently buried in a pretty woven wicker coffin. There are photos.

I noticed that lots of dealers and shoppers bring their dogs. But I have never seen a cat at Brimfield. Maybe that's because cats are smart.

The Land of Dead Musical Instruments had returned to Quaker Acres. There were heaps of broken guitars, dead drums, warped woodwinds. It was like someone had raided the band room at the High School of the Performing Arts for Hopelessly Bad and Destructive Musicians:

I liked these dolls, sunning in a lawn chair. They're friends: 

And these ventriloquist's dummies, sitting next to a display of rusty rapiers:

I felt a wave of nostalgia when I spotted these sunflower wall planters, because we had them in our kitchen when I was little:

You can find anything at Brimfield, from a lucky lion to a crazed Tin Man. 

I look forward to going back in July. For another apple fritter, at least.

1 comment:

  1. There are no cats in Brimfield because the fleas eat them. As a Resident of the town I have seen it firsthand. I lost three of my own cats, Furball, Timmy and Boots.
    The fleas that invade our town (and most nomadic people in general) should not be trusted around small animals.


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