We walked four miles at Brimfield yesterday. “Brimfield?,” you ask, “Where’s that?” Brimfield, Massachusetts, just down the road from Sturbridge, holds one of the largest outdoor antique shows in the country, and certainly the biggest in New England. Three times a year you can look for everything you could ever need, want or imagine.
We parked at the First Congregational Church, happy to contribute to one of their main sources of revenue. Of all people, there on the lawn was Pastor Ian, a divinity school friend of mine from ten years ago. For me, definitely one of the highlights of the outing.
The six of us walked along, scanning for treasures on our mental list. While the others were happy with their purchases, I felt the simplicity of not wanting OR purchasing a thing. As for silence and solitude, there wasn’t any, but that was the way it should be.
We parked at the First Congregational Church, happy to contribute to one of their main sources of revenue. Of all people, there on the lawn was Pastor Ian, a divinity school friend of mine from ten years ago. For me, definitely one of the highlights of the outing.
The six of us walked along, scanning for treasures on our mental list. While the others were happy with their purchases, I felt the simplicity of not wanting OR purchasing a thing. As for silence and solitude, there wasn’t any, but that was the way it should be.