Easter Weekend

Easter weekend was a welcome opportunity to see family I have not seen since Christmas as well as meet the Korean exchange student my parents have “replaced” me with. (He was staying with another family, but that didn’t work out all too well and since my parents have an extra bedroom now, they took him in. He’s doing better now.)

Anyway, Dad, Sung, and I left for Alabama on Saturday morning. Our destination? Collinsville Trade Day. I was going to provide a link, but their site died. For those of you who don’t know – I presume that is anyone reading this blog – Collinsville Trade Day is basically an outdoor flea market. People come from all over north Alabama and Georgia to sell or buy their junk.

And in many instances it is in fact junk. Today I saw, among other things, a bathtub and slightly used shoes, alongside the typical rusted out pieces of scrap metal. There are useful things too, such as knives and guns, some homemade crafts, and also produce (I purchased a quart of honey today), but a lot of the time you go there to laugh at the people and chuckle at what people think potential customers will buy. It’s also fun to talk to the vendors, if they’re willing to act like proper Southerners and carry on a conversation.

And since it was the day before Easter, there were quite a few chicks and bunnies for sale. I don’t know how many were bought, but I can imagine that the number of purchases made is proportional to the number of parents who will regret said purchase come Monday morning. Besides, after Easter most of the kids will no longer be interested. What do you do with a chick besides raise it for eggs or eat it, honestly? There were also a number of free puppies, as well as goats, guineas, ducks, and turtles for sale. I know at least one who will want to know there were also geckoes today. That was a first.

It’s the kind of event that someone should go to at least once in his life. For locals, once a year is enough, maybe twice. Furries should not announce their presence as such.

Following that, we navigated Lookout Mountain and stopped by Dad’s relatives. Many on Dad’s side were there… and about as many as were there were strangers to the coyote. As is typical, they knew who I was but I did not know them.

Lastly before leaving we stopped by the mill hole. Years ago, a mill stood in this spot, but now there is nothing but the foundation for the building, and a waterfall into a wide, clear pool. People still swim in it to this day, although it’s not the sort of place I would want to venture into without shoes or thick-skinned pawpads. There’s no telling how much broken glass or metal cans have accumulated over the decades. (For the record, I have never had the opportunity to swim in the mill hole, although this is something I strongly wish to remedy.)

My apologies for the lack of pictures, because I know my words formed a report and painted no mental images for you. To do that would require pages upon pages.