In the dim light of dusk we trudged through the snow to the door. Light spilled from the windows of the farmhouse store. Antiques lined the pathways and porch. Most covered with a layer of white. I took in the scene. Stories. A seaman's trunk. A high back chair. Wrought Iron chair and tables sing of garden tea parties and warmer weather. What stories these hold. I step into time as I cross the threshold. Tables and headboards from days gone by. Hutches and buffets crowd the small space. Yet there is an order,  despite the seeming chaos. Chairs and end tables. Pictures and dishes ... View Post