The Fable of the Magic Carpet

Although slightly cold and windy, the clouds managed to give clearance to the sun, making it a lovely day to walk in the local nature conservatory with my close friend. After the excursion we huddled over espressos spiked with honey and cayenne so potent it left a lingering burn. My friend then suggested stopping by a renowned shop nearby that would soon be closing its doors. ^[1]I wish Ginger and her husband the best in retirement. I am grateful that I was able to experience the world they had created. The owners had spent years traveling around the world sourcing and curating items to bring back to the states. My eyes widened and my mind scampered in delight (do minds scamper?) at her description of the fair trade treasures. She then explained there were different buildings and a barn…

”Wait, what?” I stopped her mid-sentence. “Different buildings? Barn?!” What is this place of magic and wonder you speak of? How did I not know of it before?!”

Off a rural road bright yellow “STORE CLOSING” signs marked the dirt driveway. An idyllic, white farmhouse was surrounded by trees, various outbuildings, and a large multilevel barn. I browsed the smaller buildings with growing anticipation until I finally reached the barn and entered the lower level. My nose was greeted by a musty odor which was quickly forgotten when I caught sight of richly dyed rugs and other textiles filling the room. Stacks of Persian, Chinese, and Pakistani designs ranging from muted chartreuse to one so vivid red it flirted on the border of magenta. 

Circling the giant heaps of wool artistry, as though I were stalking prey, I honed in on one deep in the pile. It was an antique Persian design depicting a hunting scene. As a history nerd, I am enchanted by all things medieval animal motif. The pull was palpable. I justified in my head why it would be a sound purchase as I ran my fingers across the silky fibers. Wasn’t it just yesterday that I was telling my husband we might need to replace our existing rugs? And yes, it is offwhite. But if it held up after all these years certainly it could withstand more time in my home. I knew I was only fooling myself though. Especially on that last point. 

I was able to come to my senses and contrast the price of the rug to the oven we needed in our kitchen renovation. Yeah, rugs can cost multitudes of major kitchen appliances. What really allowed me to come to my senses was taking pictures of the rug in question and texting them to my husband. I was able to recenter on a new perspective I recently developed. Just because something is beautiful, does not mean I need to own it. It will still be beautiful out in the world. 

Since starting this blog I have begun capturing images of textures, patterns, and objects I might use to compliment my posts. I felt satisfied by only taking the photos of the rug and relieved that I would not be setting myself up for the task of figuring out how to shove a 12×9 item into my small hatchback. Plus, my husband had texted back, “That’s really white. Are you sure you want something showing animals being killed?”