The dawning day spoke of all the elements of atmospheric perfection. Full sun, warmth, a kindly breeze, and expectation on the second full day of surrender to freedom of ordinary daily concerns left behind however temporarily, in the week we dedicate yearly to the mutual gift of celebrating our marriage covenant. So, then, the spontaneity of 'what to do today?' becomes a post-breakfast challenge.

And this day it was why a relatively short trail walk was taken to spare more time for another enterprise entirely, and then it was: why not off to Antique Alley? and that's just what we did.

The Northern thrush taking its job seriously greeted us with its high notes as we entered the Waterville Valley trail at Smartsbrook, then faded out as we sauntered through a side trail at Pine Flats. Fragrantly green, plushily soft underfoot, and balm to the eyes, the pines and hemlocks, oaks and spruce, maples and dogwood with the fresh green of still-unfurling ferns and fading trilliums.

Later, the drive to Antique Alley seemed odd, for we usually leave that long drive to Northwoods for a rainy day, when we're shut out of a hike because the rainfall isn't of the variety that can be countered by rainjackets and forging through the forest hoping the canopy would afford some measure of protection.

This time, under a clear blue sky, the drive seemed shorter than usual as we passed small towns, colleges, graceful old 18th Century homes, some in disrepair and others proudly refurbished.

We stopped first, as usual, at Austins group shop where the grizzled old guy our age with whom we had passed many similar such conversations about weather, and weathering the weather throughout the long winter months, asked where our second dog was, obviously having forgotten he'd asked us that last year. He proudly called out from her bed under the counter a small darling-faced terrier-cross looking like a Yorkie, now three years old.

We perused the shop, marvelling as usual, at the trash folks believe has value, and valuing them to be priceless, tag them into the stratosphere. Any items we felt had inherent value in age, execution and aesthetic presentation was priced beyond its actual value as well. Although we'd bought items we now treasure in the past at this shop over the decades, this would not be one of the days we'd encounter such a treasure, we soon assessed as we ambled along the aisles, pointing out things to one another. For our purpose, however, pointlessly.