Sunday, September 18, 2011


Saturday, I decided to walk the town of Monroe and view the various historical buildings that managed to survive the fires and re-developments that obliterate the past.  Jim took the Bronco over to Mike Coleman’s, his mechanic/friend for an adjustment on the transmission and let me out on the street to begin my walk from the Historical Society Museum.
Names interest me and from the Museum I learned that the Post Office shared quarters with the Park Place Store, but the U.S. P.O. would not approve a name with two words. They could have asked for PARKPLACE, but, instead, submitted Monroe, after the Monroe Improvement Co.  plotting lots on the present site of town at the time. And, as they say, the rest is history.

I hadn’t walked but half a block when I discovered an antiques fair lining both sides of a side street.  In a motor home you can’t buy anything except small stuff.  What the heck,  half the fun is looking. I should have taken pictures of the entire affair, since it was very well done. By well done, I mean they really had antiques, not flea market junk.  Some unusual things caught my eye, like this turkey foot. Nearing Halloween, hmmm. I considered. While examining  deer horns and feathers and bone buttons an Indian woman identified herself as a Pomo. She collects buttons and makes Indian vests with colorful buttons and feathers.  As we talked, she offered to buy my collection as described and I gave her my card to call me in October when I return to Murphys.

I admired this bag worn by a young cow-girl named Judy. She bought it during the Evergreen Fair. Minutes later I found two similar bags for sale.

Not antique, but beautiful future antiques.

Signs, another interest of mine, as long as they are unique or humorous.

I’m not sure Edison actually said this, but I figure I’m half way there, I’ve got the junk.

I drooled over beautiful home-made lace sewn together with crude burlap in an effort  to disguise a hole in the lace. The burlap is already leaching acid onto the bottom of this gorgeous lace. It needs rescue.

And a beautifully rendered crazy quilt with home-made lace on the edges. Nice enough to frame.

Besides quilts and quilt pieces,  an unusual amount of rag rugs.

This well-worn braided wool rug is in need of rescue.

I’ve never learned to master the technique of this type of rag rug, though I tried once. Not antique. You can tell from the colors.

And this antique wool hooked rug was a beauty. The vendor had it on the street covering up a grease spot from cars. I wanted to scold her or offer to buy it. But, I have two unfinished hooked rugs of my own at home.

Hooked wool seat covers were nicely preserved.

Jim called all too soon, claiming his Bronco didn’t need anything  done to it. It had just started to rain and we headed for the Motor Home.  When I got my pictures up this morning, I realized how biased I was to women’s crafts. There was plenty at this fair for men, tools, furnishings, car stuff, wood work of all kinds. I guess I can relate to the craftsmanship of basket making, rugs, quilts and lace that bore men silly.

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