World's Longest Yard Sale

From Covington, Kentucky, to Gadsden, Alabama, it's called the
World's Longest Yard Sale. Also known as the Highway 127 Corridor sale,
it's usually held the first weekend in August. This year it was August 3- 6.

And every year I talk about taking some time off and traveling as much of the
450 mile, four-state route as I could cover in 4 days. I never did. And this
year I didn't even talk about it. Not in this heat wave.And not with these gas
prices. I just filled my cooler with bottles of water and set out on my usual
daily forays.

On the first day, Thursday, I sped past the parking lots and yards filled with
vendors and the tables set out in front of stores and headed for a place on
Lookout Mountain where I knew there would be books for sale. There I spent
about three hours. There were boxes and boxes of books, some set out
in the blazing sun. It's usually cooler on the mountain, but not a whole lot.
There is usually a breeze, but the sun feels just as hot at that elevation as it
does in the valley.

The books were cheap, but I must have looked poor in my straw hat, for
one of the women in charge came over to me as I sat on the sidewalk,
taking all the books out of one box and slowly putting them back in.
Lowering her voice so the others couldn't hear, she said: "Did you have a
limit to what you wanted to spend? We've added up the books you've set
aside and they come to almost fifty dollars!"

I know I was sweaty and grubby. Or maybe she had heard that old people
sometimes get confused and act erratically.

After I left that sale, I stopped at Mountain Mamas, a complex of little stone
buildings that many years ago were tourist cabins. Now they are filled with
pottery and craft items made by women and jellies and preserves made by
one of the owners. They offer rental spaces out front for the annual yard sale.

I found there a new aluminum squeegee thing for washing the car that had a
longer than usual handle for $1.50. I was standing at a table in the sun which
reminded me my straw hat was missing. I'd left it at the book sale. That hat
was a favorite, so I drove all the way back to get it. And bought another
book. And decided I'd had enough and headed for home, stopping only
to replace the $25 worth of gas I'd used and to buy a gallon of milk.
The sign on the bank read 100 degrees as I passed by at 7 p.m.
I don't know how hot it was in the afternoon.

Buckie always forgives me for leaving him. He's just glad that I have
come home.

It was 77 inside and felt good, but I turned on the ceiling fan because
Buckie likes to lie under it. I've never had air conditioning in this building,
and have never wanted any except for about two weeks in August,
but this year we were already having August weather early in July. Our cold
weather lasted longer than usual this year. I had to keep the heater on much of
the time through early June. And now, with this heat wave that is killing old
folks like me in California, I'm beginning to think seriously about the global
warming theories.

When I went back out on the front porch, I saw a large snake curled in the
shallow water at the far bank. I believed it was a watersnake, but the water
silvered it so I couldn't tell. I tried to photograph it from several positions along
the bank near the house. Too much light reflecting from the water.Then,
because it still lay unmoving, I decided to try and get closer. I put Buckie in the
van so he wouldn't follow me into the creek. And, because this was atypical
behavior for a watersnake, I took along my pistol.

When I got within about five feet of it and was ready to snap a picture, it
glided away. Wish I had snapped the picture sooner. I had gotten close
enough to know it was indeed a watersnake, the dark, heavy-bodied kind
that so many mistake for the poisonous water moccasin or cotton mouth.
This is why so many watersnakes are needlessly killed.

Slaughter of the innocents.

For the next three days I braved the heat and humidity and returned to the
yard sale vendors on the mountain. I got a couple more books, lots of
clothes, a dark pot that I need for making a solar cooker, and a strange
and inaccurate thermometer with little eliptical glass globes that float up and
down. So what if it doesn't tell me the exact temperature, I still like to look
at it. I got it and an ironing board and a slide viewer which also accepts film
strips- exactly what I needed!- on a return trip to Mountain Mamas.

The Tri-County Rescue Service at the Georgia-Alabama state line had
three funeral home tents hung full of clothes, many of them brand new
and most of them really good. They were selling at $1.00 for a plastic
grocery bag full, and, by careful rolling, a lot of clothes could be packed
into one of those little bags. I had to stop there every day because
shoppers were welcome to use the clean john in the firehall. There was
a fireman's boot outside the door for donations.
On the last two days there were signs under the clothing tents urging
people to "Take as many as you can haul off- all Free".
When I went by for my john stop late Sunday afternoon, the tents still
hung full of clothes.

On Friday I had dropped off Buckie for his second shaving of the summer
before heading for the mountain, and at 3 p.m. when I had picked him up
and was driving home, the bank sign read 104 degrees. I'm glad the yard
sale isn't running for two weekends as it did last year.

Buckie after his second and last shaving of the summer


Now I have a van full of books and clothes and not enough closet space
in this building. All my clothes except what I had packed for the trip
and the things I'd bought while away burned with the house. (I most
fortunately had not unloaded the van.) So I had had enough casual clothes,
but not much for dress. Now I do.

And the books- well, I will always find a place for books.

One of the best parts of the weekend was when it rained on Saturday
night. I went out at 11 p.m. with a bucket of suds and the new squeegee
I'd bought and washed the van by the light of the porch light.The blessed
rain, gentle but steady, washed the suds from my van and the sweaty
weariness from me.