I have my antennas up.
And it's all coming at me, I kid you not.
It flies from all directions, rolls along my path, trickles up my stairs and sprinkles itself about. I find it after months of forgetting about it; or burying it in favour of some other new thing of vital importance - the belle of the ball, flavour of the week. And when found, it is new again. I think I even saw it blink at me.
What is it?
There are many... where do I begin?
Tiny little trinket boxes, found sitting on shelves hidden from view, waiting to be filled. Not just any trinket box. Antiques, beautiful wee treasures with a long history. They wait. And below them, are four miniature C-clamps sandwiching equally miniature journals between thick board. In the next 2 days, they'll meet. And what an extraordinary unison it will be. My cells flicker as I anticipate what they also anticipate.
The whole room is buzzing.
We're all in on it - the journals, bound and unbound, trinket boxes, tea-stained paper, and me. It's a party, and quite often one without music. Just the moreporks or faint sound of the sea. Other times you might be lucky enough to hear a Mongolian throat singer lighting up the speakers; and we all zone out. Time stops, we keep going. I feel sometimes like I did as a child, as if I could climb into a dolls house and play games in there.
But now I am one of the dolls, playing. It's true, you reap what you sow.
Have you seen one of the first?
There are more. Just you wait and see...
Now to dry the wet auburn locks, rest the sore feet and tired being, to spring out of bed in the wee hours and leap into a full market weekend. If you are around, come and say hello! I'll be at Ostend tomorrow, and at the Titirangi Village Market on Sunday.
When I lay them all out on my market table, I'll cover my ears so I can listen to them talk.