Picking in The Old Days Part 6

Not a day goes by without someone saying to me,

"I wish I could do what you do". 

Or,

"You have the most perfect job in the world".

You know, I think they're absolutely right. 

I do what I love, and I love what I do.

That doesn't mean it's easy . . . 

There are picking days when I come home sunburned, mosquito bitten, scratched, bruised and/or punctured by a rusty nail.

I've had muscles pulled, discs slipped, bones crushed, nails smashed, (toes and fingers) . . .

There are days when I vow I'm going to sell only items 

weighing less than 2 pounds.

I've worked in rain, hail, snow, high winds, scorching heat and suffocating humidity.


Once in Texas, as I was hauling a load of treasures to the truck,
 a vendor approached me and said, 
"you come sit down - you look like you're 
going to faint from
 heat stroke." 


 He then proceeded to pour a bottle of water over my head.
Friendly guy . . . he probably saved me from keeling over in the 
102 degree heat.
There's nothing like Texas hospitality!




Speaking of hospitality,
 there are few people anywhere
 as friendly as junkers
 for kindness, helpfulness and hospitality.


They lend a hand loading and unloading trailers and trucks. 
They'll hook up and pull your rig from the mud you've spun yourself into.
They'll take you home to supper and tell you where the next great pickin' spot is.


They're known for inviting you to join them 
rocking on the front porch with an iced tea
 at the end of a long hard day.


They share stories, and welcome weary travelers,

and bake some really fine pies
in my experience. 


We may look a little rough around the edges,
a mite frayed and scuffed,
but hard work has it's reward.


Grandmother always said that!