I held my first yard sale of the season this weekend, with lovely weather greeting my customers.

Of course, I am being somewhat sarcastic here, given the fact that I awoke to a thick fog hanging over the yard and occasional showers.

I should have known it was going to go badly, considering that I put out most of the stuff on Wednesday and covered the tables with a tarp, only to watch it rain for the next few successive evenings.

I am working to clean up my act, as some might say, emptying out some of the buildings that I have filled to capacity over the years with things I have considered useful. Furniture, canning jars, bedding, curtains, wood products, family heirlooms and music equipment all take up considerable space in two buildings and the old barn. The other building, which is located at the place I have for sale, is now empty.

It was a dreary day indeed when I walked outside bleary-eyed at 6 a.m. clutching a fresh double-cup of hot java, ready to commence the yard sale planning that should have been done some time earlier. Of course, all of you fine folks who drudge through this weekly sojourn into my life likely already knew that by instinct.

I did start one thing early, at least the night before. I spent most of Friday evening splitting wood, sometimes in the rain, with one of my good friends. We are still working on a bunch of wood donated by a friend and his neighbors. One of the trees, a huge oak, was about as big around as I could reach.

We had been out on Wednesday evening preparing to cut it down when a professional tree cutter stopped to offer his services, free of charge.

It would appear that he noticed my ladder leaning against the remains of the old oak and likely assumed I would be trying to chunk off pieces of it with the chain saw. Since looking ignorant in someone else’s eyes has never bothered me in the least, I was more than happy to let him don his climbing spurs and shimmy up the tree with his chainsaw. “I saw that ladder standing up there and thought I might keep one of you guys from killing yourselves,” he noted.

Once he had started cutting the first piece, he immediately climbed back down and asked, “Did you see that? The whole thing twisted.” Since the tree was soft in the middle, he climbed back down and cut it from the stump end, dropping it neatly to the ground without hitting the nearby phone box that had been my major concern.

I dulled my saw on Wednesday and had to sharpen it before I could resume work on Friday. At any rate, splitting the huge oak and loading it on the truck took up most of Friday evening, even with my friend’s help. The friend who donated the wood watched from a safe distance, since he’s allergic to oak, grass, poison oak and physical labor.

Once I got home Friday night, I didn’t even bother to unload the wood, since it was dark and still rainy, instead starting work on my yard sale signs. I had two of the real ones and incorporated one of those big “For Sale By Owner” deals for the other, turning it over and writing in my neatest script, which is barely legible, in black magic marker.

Since it was nearly 11 p.m. when I finally hit the bed, I was nice and rested the following morning when the alarm clock started yelling my name at 5:30 a.m.

With the tarp removed and the fabulous wealth of unbelievable deals — or the tables full of useless crap, depending on the salesman — uncovered and ready to sell, I was not very surprised to find myself with a shortage of customers.

In fact, there were probably fewer than 25 cars that stopped in all day. Since my house is not visible from the road, it stands to reason I would have fewer shoppers. Since those driving on the road likely couldn’t see the road due to the fog, let alone see the sign I posted on the main road, the result should bring little wonder.

It never ceases to surprise me what people will buy at a yard sale. I sold a machete, a box of sockets, a set of bb pistols, a metal barrel full of MREs (meals ready to eat), window fans, an extra set of fireplace tools, a flat shovel and a selection of 1970s and 80s records, along with other assorted stuff.

Soon after the fog lifted and a brief shower rolled through, prompting the tarp to go back up, a few more customers came by and then it was time to close down for the day.

In between times, after the ‘slower down’ at 11 a.m., I managed to unload the firewood and stack it between the Norway Spruce trees by my driveway.

Once it was over, I decided to give most of what was left to one of the local charitable organizations. I just couldn’t justify storing items like bedding, pillows, clothing and toys that could help someone else. Besides, the whole goal of the sale wasn’t to profit, although I did. The goal was to empty out some of my stored items without throwing them away.

At any rate, I still have one more two-story building that I need to clean out, not counting the other buildings that could stand a thinning down.

My goal right now is to eliminate one storage area at a time until I have only one building full of really useful stuff. Things like canning jars likely will need to be with me for years to come, while things like old furniture and my extra van seats need to find new homes.

Of course, I am still holding out for another sale, hoping to get rid of more of my ‘treasures’ before doing a reorganization. I have to tear down one side of a building at my parents’ house soon, so I’d better be getting ready. Maybe the weather will cooperate next time.

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