Every Wednesday the Shipshewana auction house comes alive. Pat and Brian, our ACA friends, said they were going, so we decided to watch a little of the action, too. What a crowd! The place was packed with the sort of stuff you might see neglected at garage sales - that's right - I judged it to be mostly junk. Of course, one man's junk is another man's treasure, so a lot of it sold.
There were auction callers stationed all around the building working each of several lots at the same time. It made for a very loud, very confused environment. Seasoned buyers knew how to tune out everything but whatever had captured their fancy.
Back outside, the atmosphere was blissfully calm and quiet. We milled around looking at the junk somebody must have bought at previous auctions. The sign below caught my attention since our daughter just moved to Oregon (presumably a haven for the free-spirited).
The novel home-made ice cream stand made me think of the pocketa-pocketa-pocketa sound Walter Mitty always heard in his daydreams. There were not a lot of takers and it was plenty warm enough for ice cream, so it must have been his pricing.
Excellent advice anytime!
Hey now, I haven't seen a single hippie yet.
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