THERE IT WAS, perched unobtrusively against the wall, under a pile of blankets and other wares.
An old iron bench.
It had a latticework seat and curved arms.
Each of the three arches along the back was filled with a metal cow’s head and horns centered on two crossed arrows.
It was called a Buffalo Bill bench, and I had to have it.
It would sit perfectly on the front porch of my rustic, Western-leaning home.
That’s one of the things I love about antiques shopping.
You never know what you’ll stumble across, but you can bet it will usually be unique.
Among my treasures are wooden snowshoes from New England with the leather straps still attached, a 1930s tiger oak sideboard from Belgium, an English oak barley twist bed and two matching chests from the late 1800s, an old red fire bucket from Brooklyn and a 1920s watering can from Russia.
But for me, it’s more than being surrounded with myriad odds and ends; it’s connecting to the past and pondering the life of each piece.
Who originally slept in my bed? Did the fire bucket help save lives? Was the sideboard a wedding gift, and how did it get to America? What brave soul trudged through the New England snows, and where was she going? My love of all things old was serendipitous.
Many years ago, when I was just starting out, I lived in Orange County. I was looking for a store I’d heard about to buy some fairly inexpensive furniture. When I got to the address, that store was out of business.
In its place was something called the Old English Furniture Co. I stepped inside and knew: This was me. I felt a kinship, a connection. These pieces touched my soul.
And it’s been like that ever since.
That day I discovered the beginnings of my collection: two oak side tables, one without a nail or glue in it, which was held together with interlocking pieces. I was happy all the way home.
Today’s searches yield no less joy, and I don’t have to travel far to find them. The Inland Empire has offered some amazingly wonderful finds. Shops in Upland, Yucaipa, Claremont, Redlands, San Dimas, Ontario, Glendora, Riverside — and even Beaumont and Yucca Valley — make feeding my soul an easy enterprise.
I read a piece by another antiques fan who said that whenever she was headed out to a mart or a show, her heart started racing, and the butterflies started coming, because she was so excited. That’s it exactly.
It’s not the buying so much as the looking, heading out without a shopping list, not knowing what you’ll find or that you even need anything.
But the possibilities are there, endless and waiting. It’s an adventure into the past, and you never know where it will take you. You just have to be ready to be swept along.
