One aisle after another dedicated to Depression glass and word art, burnt into barn boards, distressed to look like it wasn’t made in someone’s garage last weekend. Burlap feed bags fifty bucks a pop, printed tins for mustard and powdered potatoes, tchotchkes from someone’s trip to Hawaii or Old Mexico seventy years ago.
Booth 1067 is usually worth stopping by on a rainy autumn morning after breakfast, uninspired to fish or chase turkeys, heading into the time change. Collections reflect the collector, and you can bet on a dozen titles related to fly fishing, stuffed between books on horsemanship and books on wingshooting, below the shelves of military history and gunfighting and the Age of Discovery and crafting and riverboats and local history, both natural and anthropic.
Slim pickings, but occasionally you find some gems.
The outside bend. 
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