Thursday, February 09, 2012
of bluebirds and five dollars
You can't convince me it isn't great to live next door to the country. A brief jaunt beyond the limits of Mayberry and heart-stopping charm can be found on the side of the road.
Like handmade bluebird houses for five dollars. Seriously, five dollars. With pencil marks of the craftsman still visible for lining up the hinges of the front panel. It swings open, you see, for easy cleaning. Throw in the marketing genius of the hand-lettered sign and rusted radio flyer wagon for display, and you'll have me digging to the bottom of my purse for that five.
But the cup with the green lid and the good-sized rock inside? The cash register? I couldn't get it open to save my life. So, I had to dig out a little white bag from that same purse to put the five dollars in, and stuff the bag down into the wagon. I put the cup with the rock in it on top, for good measure. I hope when the wagon was pulled in for the night the bag was still there.
The bluebird house isn't even for me. I bought it for some one else. And if you think you need one, too, I'll be happy to drive back beyond the limits of town and pick up more heart-stopping charm.
I wonder, if they'd sell me the sign.