Love is invincible facing danger and death. Passion laughs at the terrors of hell. The fire of love stops at nothing— it sweeps everything before it. Flood waters can’t drown love, torrents of rain can’t put it out. Love can’t be bought, love can’t be sold—it’s not to be found in the marketplace. Song of Solomon 8:6-7 (The Message)
Husband and I have been so busy and he is leaving for Daytona Bike Week on Thursday, so we played hooky from church and went with friends to Zolfo Springs and the Pioneer Days Festival. We had been years ago, maybe even decades ago because I think the last time we were there, we were kidless. So, when we walked into the gate and entered a huge flea market, I was very disappointed. I remembered an oak forest shading lots and lots of antique tractors and engines. That was what I went for, not miles and miles of junk. Tables of cheap jewelry, rusty tools, out of date cologne and “antiques” were not worth missing church for! I swallowed my frustration because the purpose of the day was to spend time with husband and our friends. I found a few things I needed, a wire basket to put in the drain of the garage sink to keep fiber paper from stopping up the pipes, a cookie cutter in the shape of a mouse to felt around, and some tiny zip lock bags to place pendants in to sell. I even had kettle corn for a great mid morning snack. But, there were no trees or tractors in sight. Fortunately, it was overcast and cool as a front was on its way through. In fact, we planned our arrival at opening time so we could see the tractors before it rained. But, there were no tractors! Then, we emerged from the flea market and I could hear the thunk, thunk, thunk of those hit or miss engines. The trees were gone, knocked down by Hurricane Charlie when he tried to wipe Hardee County off the map, but it turns out we had just used the wrong entrance and missed seeing the tractors first. Some of them were being loaded onto their trailers as their owners wanted to beat the rain home, but we got to see most of them before they left. I enjoy looking at old tractors and trucks. I like the sound of those old engines which husband said were more fuel efficient though not as strong, as modern ones. My favorites were the ones that had been painted in their original colors. We even found a bright blue 1962 Ford just like ours except it was a gas engine instead of diesel and was beautiful instead of worn out. I saw a pretty green Plymouth truck that reminded me of my 1953 GMC truck which is in pieces under the shed by our garage. Another of husband’s projects derailed for lack of funds. Once we left the flea market, it was a fun morning followed by lunch and a visit to Tractor Supply in Wauchula. That’s a great little town, and its even called the “Heartland” area. I can see myself living in the country driving my old truck and plowing with my old tractor. For now, I’ll settle for a trip back in time with my sweetheart.