From the Editor: The Season of the Hunt

There’s something about May that feels like the official start of hunting season. No, not for deer or ducks, but for treasures.

The weather finally cooperates just enough to get us out the door. It’s warm enough to work up a sweat, but not quite “a stroll on the surface of the sun” warm. A glass of lemonade in the shade can usually bring your core temperature back down to something resembling sauna levels, and that’s about all the encouragement most of us need to start poking around flea markets, yard sales, and antique malls again.

This is the time of year when the thrill of the hunt kicks back in. Tables fill up, vendors return, and there’s always the possibility that the next booth holds something you didn’t even know you were looking for—until you see it.

The start of flea market season always reminds me why I love the hunt in the first place. A couple of years ago, I spotted a fiery L.E. Smith swung vase at Canton’s First Monday for the low, low price of $75. It was one of those moments where your brain barely has time to register what you’re looking at before your hands have already snatched it up, leaving a breeze in your wake.

Nearly every spring, I start eyeing my own shelves a little more critically. Not everything, mind you. Some things are staying put (hands off the Tiki and the swung vases). But a few older treasures may be ready to move along, making room for the new tchotchkes and baubles waiting to follow me home.

Of course, this year feels a little different. After a recent move that forced me to part with nearly half of what I owned, there’s not quite as much left to ‘clean out’ as there once was. But even after a major reset, I’m finding that the urge to refine never really goes away. There’s always something that no longer fits, something that’s ready to be passed along, or just enough space to justify bringing home one more treasure.

That’s part of the cycle, too. Collecting isn’t just about acquiring. It’s also about refining, rotating, and occasionally letting go so something new can take its place.

As this issue reaches you, I’m already looking ahead to my next run through First Monday in Canton. It’s one of those places where the hunt feels especially alive beneath a cloudless Texas sky, so beautifully blue and offering absolutely no relief from the sun. With row after row and building after building of possibilities, the hunt at Canton is equal parts overwhelming and exhilarating. You never know what you’ll find, but with 450 acres of treasures to dig through, you know it’s out there somewhere.

And that’s really the point, isn’t it?

The hunt.

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