Twice Upon a Time Antiques – Brattleboro Vermont

After the Sparkle Barn we decided to end our trip to Vermont with one more randomly picked antique store which ended up being Twice Upon a Time Antiques in Brattleborro.

Finding it was easy, finding parking during peak traffic wasn’t so much but we managed to find a little paid public parking lot. I guess this neighborhood was somewhat rougher than my companion anticipated for Vermont so I got reminded to lock the car, something I don’t normally bother with because if anyone wants to steal 40 pounds of plastic bags I keep forgetting to return to the grocery store then so be it. They can have them. Besides this we parked next to either an on duty cop or security guard, I mean yeah he was amongst a gaggle of pot smoking 20-somethings paying no heed but this is Vermont. I don’t know about the legalities, all I know is the vibe – hippies live here.

We walked to the antique store probably more disoriented than the aforementioned youths but that is what several days of driving to absolutely random locations will do to you. On this day I was confusing Brattleborro with Bennington. No matter, a b’s a b, and we’re still in Vermont.

The antique store had a lovely vibe. The woman working here today was joyful and sweet, even singing along to the oldies until she heard me also singing along. Don’t be shy! Everyone should sing more often! And it’s fun when it’s two strangers!

This place was three moderate floors. The front had typical decorative antiques and nostalgic throw backs (like a whole wall of brightly colored Felix the Cat clocks, you know the ones with the swinging tails) and the back had a bunch of really delightful retro clothing. I’ve grown too fat for all of it but I did really enjoy pawing over it and my companion was distracted like a crow with something shiny when he found a massive collection of fancy hats next to a mirror. I chose a few for him to try- how about the Jackie Kennedy pillbox hat, no? Surely these series of Easter Sunday bests would do. The woman working here giggled with us as she walked by, “That one suits you!” It’s important to be silly sometimes. I was just happy the mood of the past few days was finally swinging back to playful.

Upstairs there was mostly charismatic furniture and a few odd paintings, all very hippie for the most part. That’s probably the other reason I loved this place, that is absolutely my style (or rather the first of my styles before ADHD took over.) The basement had the usual basement antiques but hidden among them was THE UGLIEST teapot I have EVER seen with an odd number of cups. It was peak 70’s fashion. Orange and brown floral. This is absolutely where my love of the color orange came from – from 70’s decore that was so heinously ugly I decided to love it as an act of rebellion. It was only $25 and I really wanted this horrendous choice of kitchenware but… what was I going to do with it?? If I had a house with a big kitchen and company to feed tea to that’d be one thing but that just isn’t even remotely my reality. So I left the poor thing there… and it’s probably still there… because who else would buy something that profoundly fugly?!

Back upstairs my companion found a book so specific and local it just made me want to eat Vermont whole for being so goddamn adorable. This shop wasn’t huge or crazy but the hats everywhere gave it a certain charm and the staff were exactly what I’d expect in Vermont, just a few chill women enjoying a beautiful day.

Outside on the streets however things were getting weird. Stay tuned for tomorrow’s post to see why!

Riverview Mill Artist Studios – Wilton NH

So I was in Wilton today to revisit the Vale Cemetery but also to check out their many little free libraries that live there. I had decided these would be great receptacles to get my name out there if I donated my own books to them. It was one of those days though – one little library was defunct and the second one I couldn’t find. And somehow as I got lost I ended up behind an old wool mill. There were signs everywhere for “artists” and I… wanted to fall down this rabbit hole to see what it was.

As it turns out there’s a little community of artists and practitioners over there. There’s artist studios, massage parlours, tarot readings. Somehow, I had found the hippies in this town. I knew it. I knew they had to be somewhere providing a delightful counter to the tightwads who made the cemetery so… rule bound and uniform. And were they ever!

I walked in and immediately noticed a few cases full of miniatures. I don’t know what it is about miniatures but the well-done ones can really suck you in. And these were definitely that quality. There was also a few racks of gorgeous hand sewn hippie dresses, a display of glittery resin planchettes and mini spirit boards, and a table full of postcards and of course a rock shop vendor that was the only one I could see that was peopled. The woman at the counter was hilarious. She told us this was her last day until September as she was taking her goods on the road before “spooky season” hit. She lamented she was trying her damdest not to have a “real job” and doing every gig she could find vending but that she had learned her lesson that “some gigs are just not for me.” She described for twenty minutes one such event which was laden with country music that “compared women to trucks.” She just had stories to tell about drunk frat boys, terribly formulaic country music, and Christian fundamentalists who probably thought she was peddling Satan’s goods. And she did have some really nice new agey rocks. Pendants, spheres, polished rocks, natural rocks… and one that looked like a bowl of marbles. OBVIOUSLY I had to come home with the orange marble. And an orange fidget rock. But I left the orange pendent and a much bigger orange rock behind for next time. Most people are attracted to shiny things. I am attracted to orange things. Every. Damn. Time.

While talking to this delightful woman she told us there was actually a lot more here. There were three floors to check out as well as more studios on this floor. She pointed at the miniatures and joked, “I HAVE to show everyone the cat poop. It’s super realistic, absolutely perfect tiny little spiral of cat poop in a perfect little cat box. She does amazing work. Intricate tiny lace with such details! But I can’t get over the cat poop.”

ANYWAY. I did move on and met another lovely artist in a studio full of paintings and little scrap book type things. She’d just moved here from the south and was starting to offer classes on how to make different things. She shared the space with someone else who had some terrific Americana tattoo flash on the wall which I was again very attracted to. It was interesting.

The only other studio open was a jewelry maker at the end who’d been there the longest but I didn’t go in. It just seemed socially odd to wander in (there was a doorbell.) The three floors above… no one was in today. So I got some great exercise and took a photo of their gorgeously utilitarian spiral staircase but that was it for that…

This was a fun distraction. I really enjoyed it but I think you have pretty offbeat to find this sort of adventure worth finding this place. It’s… unique. Perfect for the eccentric.

Redwood National Park California

I went to the Redwood National Park hoping to see some big trees. I wasn’t sure if I would see any or not, knowing full well that most of the really big trees, the ones which are thousands of years old, have long since been logged before the days of national parks. However I had watched documentaries that say redwoods grow 6 feet a year and that in the canopy there are whole ecosystems we’re just now learning about in tree caves in and on branches, even whole species of amphibians living their entire lives up there. It’s a neat and romantic idea, still, on my way to this place I passed dozens of cheesy little small-town attractions like The Grandfather Tree and Confusion Hill. I actually stopped at Confusion Hill to see what it was about. There was a small very packed gift shop and signs all over the place saying to beware of the rare and elusive Chip-a-lope. And low and behold there were Chip-a-lope in the gift store, little stuffed chipmunks with antelope antlers on their head. Cute. There was something about a train ride and a twisted tree and their back yard seemed to be sectioned out into bizarre exhibits. I should mention the place was run by an old hippie woman, and probably her husband. I left confused alright, never finding out what the “mystery” advertised on the giant sign even was. Perhaps which drugs were used to inspire this place? I can voucher a guess on that one.

The area was rife with aged hippies. I should mention this, as that morning I accidentally flashed one when the back door of the Jeep unexpectedly flung up during my morning rituals. Then there was Confusion Hill and someplace I passed called Area 101 which looked like a small ghost town someone had boarded up and psychedelically painted with UFO’s and eyeballs. I stopped to take a photo of that bizzarro place only to be mocked by two of its patrons, old hippies, hooting and hollering and jumping around like monkeys. Touché. I smiled and waved in turn. Yes, I know I’m a dorky tourist. Might as well wear it with pride.

When I got to the actual redwood forest I drove quite a ways noticing most of the monster trees were indeed old stumps, cut down for one reason or another. Finally I got to the trails. I took the Ladybird Johnson Trail, starting with a wooden bridge that extended over the highway. It led me into the woods where I got to see giant dead trees, hollowed out by fire but still standing! I walked further. I found a cavernous tree off the path and meandered off to check it out. I have a hard time resisting such temptations sometimes. I took photos and checked it out thoroughly. It was more interesting than what was on the path and I was not the first one to think so as graffiti in the tree noted which of the many puppy-eyed teenagers loved whom. Back to the path I finally started hitting live giant trees. They were impressive but nothing like the photos I’d seen as a kid of people stretched arm to arm around the old trees, in fact they weren’t even as big as the “drive through” tree I passed, with a large hole carved out of it allowing cars to pass right through it. That tree was still alive, despite the harassment. There was apparently a “tall tree grove” but it was inaccessible without a permit. The signs stating this fact did not state how to get a permit or if it was possible.

In any event the trail was a nice one, especially for someone’s who’s out of shape tush has been doing very little except driving around the Jeep… and it was humbling to be in the presence of such wide and tall trees. Despite warnings of bears and cougar I saw no wildlife, save for a jay and a snake. The jays were demonized on the exhibit signs. I was told not to feed these opportunistic monsters because they were making some other more natural birds go extinct.

If you are enjoying Catching Marbles please consider adding a dollar or two to my limited gas money fund so I can continue going on adventures and sharing them with you! Thank you!


San Francisco California

After seeing all the other Californian cities before San Francisco I was a bit desensitized. Still, San Francisco was historically more interesting than the other cities, It was no LA that’s for sure! It’s quiet, its cute, and its full of 90 degree hills, it’s lovable in a 3-D sort of way.

Though I do know various tidbits of San Fransisco history I wasn’t really sure where to go myself. I knew I wanted to check out the Haight and go down Lombard street just to be the ultimate geeky tourist. I headed towards Haight-Ashbury, the former and apparently now reestablished hippie mecca. Had one of those bizarre moments when I knew I was getting near because I recognized one of the houses. Took me a couple of hours to figure out why. I think I recognized it from some old news footage in Tom Brockaw’s (spelling?) 1968 documentary. This is one of the handful of documentaries I play whenever its on, which is often…

Anyway, I knew when I hit the Haight. There was a sudden burst of psychedelic colors washing out over the windows and buildings. Murals were everywhere. So was tie-dye T-shirt shops as well as a lot of other adorable little fashion outlets. When I initially parked I wasn’t sure if I could because there was a sign on the meter that said something about construction and no parking. there was a burly hippie dude in the front of a music store and when asked if I could park here he said nothing, just approached the meter, ripped off the sign, threw it in a nearby trashcan and announced, “Is now!”

I walked into the music store. It had beautiful instruments but having no musical inclinations I had no idea about any of them. I did hit a few record stores as well which had an absolutely delicious selection of things, the most variety I’d ever seen. I didn’t look too close. I probably would have bought half the store if I could.

I stopped in at one of the artsy looking stores. There were wood carvings here that blew my mind. One piece of wood carved into two tangoing dinosaurs with exquisite detail was the first thing I saw. The second thing was an entire wall, including a bedframe with cabinets, all a conglomerate of tiny carvings. It was amazingly 3-D. Of course there was a big wooden Buddha people had left coins on and a Ganesh I couldn’t help but petting. He’s the Hindu protector of travelers after all…

Another interesting store I stopped by was some sort of freakish antiques and bad taxidermy shop. It had not just jackalopes but a squirrel riding a bunny rodeo style, several finch headed necklaces, squirrels dressed up as dolls, a fancy rat poised over a trap, and other very badly taxidermied little things that just looked dried up, twisted, and weird. If animals weren’t your thing they also had a shrunken head and the tiny severed foot of a Chinese woman from back in the days when binding was practiced. Oh and there was also a pickled tattoo of some sort… and funny enough a book about the Mutter Museum. Upstairs was a gallery of scary art and a deep purple embossed velvet child-sized casket, very Victorian looking.

All and all I left the Haight happy, happy enough to take a crack at Lombard street, which by the way is a one way street, and which our navigation at first brought us to the wrong side of. Another foil in planning when I got back to Lombard I drove it for quite awhile without seeing the characteristic eight hairpin turns lined up one after another. Back to the phone. It told me Lombard street’s crooked section was only one block and it told me where so off I went. When I first saw what the Jeep was in for I patted it’s dash and told it I was sorry. It groaned in return but made it just fine past all the turns! No one else was keeping entertained with this street as I was and the pedestrians seemed to think the Jeep was too fat for such a stunt, they looked on with an expression of delighted horror. After this three small cars appeared and followed suit.

Today was a good day for a little bit of ocean fun so I headed to Pier 37. I didn’t know what it was but it was listed as a tourist destination in the brochure I got from the Salinas campground. As it turns out Pier 37 it is a boardwalk full of fried foods, ice cream, little tourist shops, corny entertainment, street performers, and restaurants. I watched some break dancing and perused some magnet shops before making my way to the actual pier where rumor had it that there were seals. I wasn’t disappointed. There was a group of fat seals all sitting on the docks barking at each other and lazily basking in the sun. It was a nice end to this little trip to the sea front.

After leaving Pier 37 it was decided that the Full House house should be found for the appropriate shits and giggles. I looked it up and in another dorky excursion checked it out, snapping one photo to the complete befuddlement of the car behind us.

It was after this I just happened to stumble across an amazing surprise called the Fine Arts Lagoon. When I read the sign I thought of an art gallery in front of a big black body of water, possibly filled with monsters. It was nothing like that. Instead it was an enormous structure of Greek columns nestled aside a good sized lagoon, absolutely filled with red-eared sliders and big scary carp. Ducks also lined the shores and one swan watched me walk by, politely not beating me to death with its wings, as swans are prone to do. This place was gorgeous and serene, something I had never heard of, yet it was such a treasure! I walked all the way around the lagoon and through the columns, decorated with stunning Greco-Roman styled ornamentation including large vases and absolutely perfect figures of women. We read the signs, and found out this place was built in the 20’s as both a wildlife refuge and a testimonial to art itself. I had a couple Asian women take a photo in front of it.

Finally I decided to go to Golden Gate Park to get a photo in front of the Golden Gate bridge. I found another Asian family to take the photo. I was asked to get  up on the wall but I yelled, through the phenomenal sound of gusting wind, “I can’t! My skirt is blowing everywhere!” This made the two Asian women in the background giggle to each other. I am glad I amused someone… I was having a Hell of a time with my ankle length, very light weight skirt. I was holding it in bunches with both hands to keep it down and I was failing. I was happy to be back in the Jeep.

If you are enjoying Catching Marbles please consider adding a dollar or two to my limited gas money fund so I can continue going on adventures and sharing them with you! Thank you!


 

Sedona Arizona

After driving through the desert for God knows how many days I were delighted when I once again came back to civilization. Sedona was adorable. It was a little artistic hippie community in the middle of gorgeous scenery of red rock mountains and canyons. Here I found galleries, fancy cafés, a chocolate shop, a place that just sold various caramel apple combinations, lots of very affordable T-shirt and dress shops, and too many little galleries and gift shops to count, all displaying locally made creations, some pretty out there. There were creatures made out of welded scrap metal, horses and bunnies made convincingly out of chicken wire, plenty of pottery, blown glass, bric-a-bracs, and anything you could have possibly wanted. This place made me very happy, it filled me with a sort of joyful warmth.

Every so often I’d come across a statue of a peccary and its baby and each time it was painted another crazy psychedelic scheme of colors. There were also statues of horses and old western figures and a place where some old western stars had left their handprints. I didn’t know who any of them were but that’s OK, I don’t think I have ever watched a whole Western from beginning to end without falling asleep anyway. In any event the people were friendly, everyone was laid back, there were pink jeep tours and helicopter rides going on to see the local canyons. It was all very nice. Even the buildings were unique, two story pueblos that went all the way down the street. The only way you could to the second floor was taking the stairs at the end of each street. It was very neat. They even had a little rock and fossil shop that sparked the interest in the nerd in me. A $12,000 trilobite fossil made my mouth water and my eyes glass over.

 

 

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