It’s probably the only weekend out of the year when you can people watch in Mrs. Rebecca Thornton’s usually tranquil front yard.
From my seat on the porch swing, I watched as couples and families milled around under the pecan trees, inspecting a curious assortment of items displayed on numerous tables. A blue tent had been erected near the front walkway, shading three tables of items and a querulously excited Chihuahua mix with a pink polka-dot collar. Her leash was tied to one of the tent’s poles and she circled it every few seconds to go between an adorable little girl of about two years old and a Styrofoam cooler containing about two weeks’ worth of Mountain Dew. Neither had much of a calming effect on her; I blamed the weirdly smiling clown doll perched on the corner of the nearest table. That was one item, I thought, they might as well pack back up for the ride home. I felt my brow furrow just looking at it.
It was the weekend of the statewide highway 301 yard sale and in Four Oaks, tables were scattered along both sides of the road from Mrs. Rebecca’s bed and breakfast the Dwelling Place all the way down to Papa’s Pizza and beyond. I rode along that stretch, seeing everything from four-wheelers to dining sets to fresh vegetables up for sale. An elderly gentleman in a dignified straw hat presided over a card table crowded with porcelain figurines and I happened by as a handshake was exchanged over a dirt bike on a trailer nearby. It was just 8:30 in the morning but I still had the feeling of a latecomer to a particularly eclectic party. Some people, I learned, had been up and going since 6am. That’s some hardcore yard sale-ing.
The trees in the yard of the Dwelling Place, where I’d chosen to hang out and observe the action, provided welcome shade as I prowled around among the tables. Mrs. Rebecca (as I have always called her, growing up in town) and her son Sam Thornton had rented out spaces in their yard a week or two in advance. For a small fee people could choose a comfortable place to set up their tables of goods for sale. The location made it a great deal.
Mrs. Rebecca herself was standing behind a card table marked with a neon green hand-written sign that read, “Granny’s Old Fashioned Lemonade – Cold and Sweet! $1.00 large, .50 small”. I had to smile at the name, but having heard of this famous lemonade, I’d been looking forward to trying some. I paid my dollar and got a large Styrofoam cup full of what did in fact turn out to be the epitome of lemonade. I had to give Mrs. Rebecca a hug after tasting it.
On a table across from the lemonade, I saw something I just had to have. Behind an assortment of antique pottery, cast iron tools and blue Ball jars was a wooden pig, painted white with black hearts, standing on three wheels like a tricycle. The look I got when I carried it over to my husband confirmed my unusual taste in knickknacks.
Propped against the pecan trees near two toilets sitting side by side were a pretty mantelpiece and an assortment of antique doors. Some nice old windows sat inharmoniously near an electric stove and I watched as a young couple purchased them and happily carried them to their car. I wished I’d seen them first.
Not far from the blue tent, a talented woman with a French braid and glasses played hymns on an electric piano she had just bought.
“We’re going to have to figure out how to get it in the car and back to South Carolina,” she said with a smile as we chatted between songs.
Everyone I saw seemed either fully immersed in some serious hunt for yard sale gold or just out for a little socialization. Laughter, dogs barking, children playing, and music from the electric piano gave this small-town Saturday morning a festive air. All that was missing was the smell of hot dogs or popcorn though both, I was sure, could be bought at some point along this stretch of 301. I took a deep breath of gardenia instead.
What a fun way to start my Saturday. I circled the house, finishing my lemonade, and visited the chickens in their coop near the vegetable garden. I like to think they remembered me but were distracted by the yard sale excitement.
From there, I made my way back up to the front porch and the blue tent out front where the dog and the little girl continued to play, a safe distance from the untouched clown doll. I briefly considered it as yet another weird item to mail to my younger brother, just for the fun of it, but the thought of having it in my car for the ride home was too creepy.
I got a friendly bark from the dog and a wave from the little girl before I headed back to the car with a white grocery bag containing my triumphantly acquired Tricycle Pig. After depositing it on the back seat, I looked back at a yard full of people clearly enjoying themselves on a lovely summer morning and thought, One more walk through won’t hurt.