When we were finally graced with a lovely mild and mostly sunny day, we made a truly arbitrary decision to waste it. Yes, truly, we did. Oh, we made a return to Smarts Brook trail, and enjoyed doing so, trekking uphill to view the spectacular red-striped rocky gorge with the tremendously full spill down the mountainside, but we also went off on a side-trail that we'd taken on a previous occasion in an earlier year, which we knew didn't really lead to anywhere of interest before turning back. The trek was more of a stretch-your-legs exercise, and another opportunity to sight wildflowers, but this time the atmosphere was so rife with blackflies they came at us in well-regulated little black platoons.

We hadn't meant to stay, in any event, for we planned to devote the major portion of the day not to clambering about on woodland mountain trails, but driving instead from north to south in New Hampshire. Past Antique Alley which had exhausted itself of an always-spotty inventory of antiques and 19th Century paintings and porcelains, and further on, to an area which my husband had done some Internet research on, where he had been assured a great number of antique collectives had set up shop.

Traffic was fairly heavy around Concord, and we found ourselves soon in a run-down suburb once past which we came across the first of the presumably many group shops. This turned out to be the most extensive such warehouse-building we'd yet come across with myriad little dealers, their offerings for the most part reflecting a variety that any salvage shop would have been proud of. And, on occasion, something of real historical, aesthetic value did pop up, but invariably in fairly poor shape. We almost succumbed to a few items, but managed to restrain ourselves.

In chatting with other questors-after-collections-value we were informed of yet another shop a few miles' distant which had a considerable number of paintings and that information intrigued us sufficiently to draw us out of the confines of the massive junk shop, onward. Eventually we recognized some of the narrative-landmarks we had been given, and launched ourselves into this new venue. Which, as it happens, turned out to be hands-down the most authentic, pleasing and attractive such venue we'd yet come across, anywhere.

The quality of the antique furniture, paintings, sculptures, decorative items and porcelains was beyond expectation. Their prices matched their quality, needless to say. We moved breathlessly, as though through a minefield of precious jewels, from one room setting to another, each replete with the most carefully selected genuine pieces of antique furnishings we'd ever encountered, anywhere. Transfixed, we kept wandering, and whispering our astonishment to one another.

It was an amazing exposure, quite the experience. All caution was dropped to the winds. We saw one painting after another that grabbed our attention, and which my husband decided the walls of our home were pleading with him to acquire.