Bussey's Flea Market

 

Right before heading back up to The Great Salt Lake, I had an adventure day with a dear old friend, now photographer.  We headed out to Bussey's Flea Market off of I-35.  On a hot summer day in South Texas, where the rain hasn't hit the soil in months, the whole atmosphere has changed.  It feels like the desert.  I feel as if I were on many of the reservations I stopped at on my drive down to Texas, tucking into various rock shops and trinket stores off the side of the road.  Passing through many of these stands, the junk stands turned into oil rigs and then the Hill Country surrounding my home.  At this flea market, I feel as if I had been transported back to the flatlands of Arizona, right here in my drying up home town of San Antonio as I sifted through turquoise and signs from old shops at Bussey's.