Florence Colorado: Good Stuff Antiques, No Doilies or Scary Clown Toys

Do I put my money where my mouth is? I've been blathering on about some of the cool stuff, and about some rather bizarre stuff that can be found in Florence--the antiques capital of Colorado.

But is my house tastefully stuffed with good stuff that I've found in Florence? Heck yeah!

Awhile back I promised a tour of my house. I basically decorate in the gypsy, peacock, pseudo-Victorian funk style. Never heard of that style, you say? I hadn't either, but living in Florence inspired me. So, that's basically what you'll see in my home.

One of my favorite antiques stores in Florence is Good Stuff at 131-B W. Main St. Lots of the "good stuff" in our house came from there. Now that is high praise coming from a picker. That means the prices are good.

I've loved Good Stuff for years. Even my husband, the King of Impeccable Taste loves it.

But what do other people think? I did a quick search online and the reviews of Good Stuff are right on the money. But my favorite review, in part, read,"No doilies or scary clown toys..."

That is INDEED high praise of an antiques store. And I am pretty sure, I know what Florence store that reviewer is referring to when they mention scary clown toys and doilies. Meow! But I will never tell. That is part of the mystique of Florence, finding where the good stuff is and then alternately being scared by clowns.

My most recent purchase at Good Stuff was a large amount of vintage brooches. I have a love of peacock decor and most anything sparkly, shiny, gaudy and over the top. Sure, I love primitives and folk art too--but gaudy is yummy.

I start out with getting this one vintage peacock brooch. Next thing I know about eight more vintage brooches are in my hot little hands. Of course, the owner at Good Stuff cut me a bulk deal without me even asking. I thought the prices were fairly cheap anyway.

So, I get home with my glittery treasures and realize that I don't really wear that much jewelry and certainly not gaudy brooches. What to do?

A few years back, The King of Impeccable Taste found a neat standing lamp at a Colorado yard sale. The King is the original Colorado Picker. The King got some fabric, beads and trim and made some lamp shades.

I decided the lamp need to be tricked out with gaudy brooches. Is this rather like Pimp My Lamp?

Tacky. Tackalicious. I love it. And I love Good Stuff Antiques.

Florence Colorado: Barn & Barrel, One Of The Best Window Displays

  I haven't done an official study, but I imagine Florence Colorado has one of the highest per capita ratios of antiques in the country. And the antiques capital of Colorado also has some of the best window displays I've seen anywhere.

  I'm a sucker for anything vintage and green, whether it's close to St. Patrick's Day or not.

  The current window display and at Barn & Barrel at 119 W. Main St. is delicious and green. Every shade of green from minty to sagey to Ireland. Weathered paint. Ah. Yummy.

  And this is just the window display. The shop inside is also full of tremendously delicious vintage delights.

  Barn and Barrel is one of cutest stores in Florence, but I bet as I take blog readers on more tours of Florence, I'll be writing that about most every store in town. And it will be true! After all, this is True Story Club.

 

Florence Colorado: Taxidermy On Steroids--Part 2

   We all know Florence, Colorado is the official antiques capital of Colorado. And we know I am The Self-Appointed Queen of Marketing for Florence. And we know that our state moniker is Colorful Colorado.

  That means colorful antiques, junk and colorful characters. Let's complete our tour of Taxidermy on Steroids with Mr. Smith. He's not technically taxidermy. Or if he is, he isn't telling me.

  But I am pretty certain Mr. Smith is related to Fartin' Farnsworth.

  Honestly, you don't know who Fartin' Farnsworth is? He used to grace the window of a business is Cripple Creek. He'd draw attention to semi-vulgar t-shirts and other, ahem, gas-related novelty items. And you think Florence has some strange merchandise and taxidermy characters. At least I have yet to locate a whoopee cushion in any of my junkets in Florence.

  Anyway, Mr. Smith is, I believe, distantly related to Farnsworth and he is in the window of Iron Gate Antiques Mall at 109 W. Main St. in Florence. Since Iron Gate is truly one of the best antique malls in the state and a much classier place that where Farnsworth used to hang out--he is simply named Mr. Smith. Smith is missing a few fingers. Probably from a bar brawl with Fartin' Farnsworth.

  Mr. Smith is for sale. Just about anything in Florence is. The nice fellow who was working at Iron Gate today noticed my intense interest in Mr. Smith today. No, the Iron Gate employee did not call the police on me. He knows I am a dealer. The employee told me the mornings he opens up the shop, he knows in his head that Mr. Smith is not real. Don't tell Mr. Smith that. But, almost every time he opens, Mr. Smith gets him since the employee for an instant thinks Mr. Smith is real.

  Smith ain't the most talkative guy but he smells a lot better than Farnsworth.

  So, let's go back upstairs at the Iron Gate and finish our mini-tour of taxidermy on steroids.

    And you really though I was exaggerating when I said there truly is a land of misfit taxidermy in my first post.

  According to the tag, this bird is a blue-eared pheasant. I did not know pheasant had different ear colors. Perhaps his ears were just cold. But this guy is a looker and I'd certainly purchase him if it wasn't for my husband--the King of Impeccable Taste that barred my own taxidermy purchase from our home. Refer to the previous post, Taxidermy on Steroids.

Awww! This is the frowsiest Bobcat I've ever seen. I was eyeballing this little dude a few weeks ago with another antique dealer and friend and we decided the price on this guy just screamed at us to take him home (under $40) but what the heck! Both our husbands were with us and just were not that enthused.

  Okay, I know this taxidermy treasure is a Bobcat and not a mountain lion. But for some reason Frowsy Bobcat reminded me of the time I was walking in a park on the outskirts of Denver metro. I spotted a sign that suggested a mountain lion might spring out and attempt to kill me at any moment, even though I was very close to Denver.

  The sign gave some very helpful tips about how to get the best of the mountain lion, assuming one was not armed with a pea shooter, a bazooka or a gun. The sign suggested that is was important for the human to regain control of the situation by attempting to get ON TOP of the mountain lion. I kid you not. I really wish even governmental and wildlife agencies would contact me for a common sense  reality check. I would suggest to the authorities that once a mountain lion IS on top of you, you are probably toast.

  I was not the only resident of Denver who thought this was hysterically funny that this wildlife sign in metro Denver gave such sucky advice.

  I suggest that someone take Frowsy Bobcat home and practice a half Nelson on him in preparation for walking in Denver area parks.

Ah, we are not in the Natural History Museum in Denver.  We are still upstairs at Iron Gate.

Consider this, a visit to Florence in truly colorful Colorado is really a cheap vacation that will appeal to all members of the family. Most women like to go antiquing. Check. Most men like to go junking. Check. And most kids like to go to natural history museums. Check. And most of us like to have a good laugh. Check and double check.

Florence Colorado: Taxidermy on Steroids

  Have you ever asked yourself where the land of misfit taxidermy is? Sure you have. You just don't want to admit it. Ya know, sort of like the land of misfit toys? Apparently a great deal of it ends up in Florence, the antiques capital of Colorado.

  I support the Humane Society of the United States and other animal charities. But, deep in my heart, I have a slight and tepid love for scruffy taxidermy. I went to a 12-step program to try and get over it--but it didn't work.

  So, today I took a mini-tour of Florence to see what I could find in the way of misfit taxidermy. What you say? I have no life? I have nothing better to do that browse, gawk and mock taxidermy. Yeah, it's all true and I'm proud of it. It only took about 12 minutes this morning for me to assemble this tour of Florence's fun and funky taxidermy.

  And who am I? The Self-Appointed Queen of Marketing for Florence, Colorado. Translated that means, I just do this for fun and am in NO way associated with the Chamber of Commerce or any of the other fine organizations that promote Florence and Fremont County.

 Full disclosure: I do work in the antiques trade and do have a booth or two of my own in the fine town of Florence. And I do occasionally sneak into a shop or two in town and "help" the owners in exchange for some junk.

  In case anyone (and none of my blog readers would really think this) feels I am having a bit too much fun seeing what is really in the shops and booths in Florence--I'll start my taxidermy tour in my own booth. I'll shame myself.

  Those who live in Florence will recognize this beautiful item. It came out of a restaurant in town, that sadly went out of business. I purchased it for myself. BUT in an ironic twist and reversal of normal gender roles--my husband barred me from bringing in this stuffed Walleye fish with a beer bottle puttied into its mouth, into our humble home.

  What? My husband has no taste when it comes to decorating! Observant blog readers will see that I placed the hapless Walleye in a vintage wicker baby buggy. I was trying to recreate the scene from Rosemary's Baby where Rosemary looks into the buggy and sees the spawn of Satan. My husband was not too amused since he has NEVER been very keen on Satan--and apparently is not too keen on stuffed fish either.

  And where was this hideous picture taken? Actually in one of the finest antique malls in Colorado--Iron Gate Antique Mall at 109 W. Main St. In fact, all of them were. But they were all taken upstairs--where there actually is excellent stuff. And downstairs--well, some of the finest antiques and collectibles in the state, at quite good prices.

  Let's continue the misfit taxidermy tour.

  I can only say one thing about this poor turkey. Well, he's actually half a turkey from what I can tell. But I never claimed to be a turkey or taxidermy expert. All I can say is this Thanksgiving I will be trekking to Whole Foods and buying one of those Tofurkey things--tofu that sorta tastes like turkey.

  Speaking of eating, the King of Impeccable Taste (opposites do attract) just came home and claims it is dinnertime.

  No worries, I'll continue, if I must, on the tour of taxidermy on steroids in the next post.

My Guilty Pleasure-- Lt. Joe Kenda: Homicide Hunter

  I have a guilty pleasure and it's not sitting on the couch eating bon-bons, even though that could be arranged. It's Lt. Joe Kenda of Investigation Discovery's true crime show--Lt. Joe Kenda: Homicide Hunter.

  The odd thing is I just discovered Kenda a few months ago when channel surfing. It's a bonus that I lived in Colorado Springs for over 20 years, where Kenda solved almost 400 homicides.

We rolled into town just about the time Kenda was retiring from his stellar career, so we'd never heard of the detective until a few months ago.

                                                                        JOE KENDA




  For those not familiar with Colorado Springs, it is perhaps one of the country's most scenic mid-sized towns, nestled closer to the Rockies than Denver. The town exudes beauty, art, history and a friendly spirit.

  Who knew what evil lurked under the surface of that fair town.

 The other day I was working at a small shop in another part of Colorado and a browser came in. She and her friend were in southern Colorado on a work assignment and live in Aurora. For those not familiar with Colorado, Aurora is a suburb of Denver. While Aurora has very ritzy areas and fine people, parts of the suburb are among the roughest in Denver metro. At least that was my opinion based on the evening news when I lived in Denver metro.

  Out of the blue, this Aurora resident brings up Joe Kenda. She is delighted when I tell her that I am one of his biggest fans, even though I just discovered him a few months ago.

  She said," I'm telling everyone I know about Kenda and about Investigation Discovery channel. I believe everyone should watch a few of these true crime shows, just as a warning as to what is really happening in order to protect oneself. I mean, look, Colorado is portrayed as one of the safest places to live and if all this was happening in Colorado Springs...well..."

  I couldn't agree with her more.

  I was under the delusion that Colorado Springs had very low crime for a town of its size. And I suppose it does.

  But several years ago, as a juror, I spent nearly three months in the El Paso County courthouse with my fellow jurors intently watching over 100 witnesses, including members of the FBI, CBI, ATF, Colorado Springs Police Department and El Paso County Sheriff's office testify.

  It was not just the trial that changed my mind about what lurks under a very wonderful city. It was going through security and metal detectors everyday and rubbing shoulders with obvious gang members and criminals and seeing their demeanor. I learned  how to read gang tattoos and gang tags, as a gang tag actually appeared in the courthouse.

  I was talking to a courthouse janitor, who told me not to worry, and to tell my fellow jurors not to worry about our safety--because if I ever saw the security in the courthouse, I would be amazed.

  But somehow all that security didn't prevent a gang banger from spraying a wall.

  But it was really Joe Kenda that opened my eyes to the violence and nature of some people.

  In our house, Kenda is a bit of a hero. He reminds me a bit of one of my other heroes, Winston Churchill.

  Watching Kenda the last few months, brought me back to my months as a juror. When the guilty verdict was read in our double-homicide case, I was watching the faces of the attorneys and the defendant, of course. Basically there was little facial reaction from them. But the lead homicide detective, who sat at the prosecutor's table most every day, nearly cried. He quickly regained his stoic expression. And then, I realized that most law enforcement authorities take it very personally. It is more than a job.

  It's obvious it was with Kenda.

  I just recently discovered that Kenda is a bit of a marketing machine on his Facebook page. I say amen to that. He earned that right.

  A bonus, besides Kenda's deadpan delivery and witticisms is the actor (also a real former law enforcement officer) Carl Marino, who plays the younger Kenda. Since I'm talking guilty pleasures, the fellow is pretty easy on the eyes and a compelling actor.

                                                                 CARL MARINO



  Yes, we at True Story Club love our true stories, including true crime. And especially Joe Kenda. It isn't often you find reality TV that alternately makes you chuckle and makes you think deep thoughts because Kenda knows how to condense the worst of human nature into a learning experience.

  One of my favorite Kenda quotes: " If you're going to be a liar, you should at least have the decency to be good at it."

  Yeah, Kenda! That's always been my major beef with criminals. Especially career criminals. At least be good at it--including lying.

  Ah, but most of all, I love Kenda's walk-softly-and-carry-a-big-stick approach. Kenda was mentioning that most alleged criminals expect the police to yell at them. But Kenda said he didn't raise his voice, because it's much scarier to people when he was arresting them to say in a very low voice that if they didn't do what he said, he's kill them right then and now.

  "And they always believed me," Kenda said.

  Ya know what? I believe you too, Lt. Kenda. And you are just one reason I believe in the power of good law enforcement.

Colorful Colorado: Aspen Leaf Peeping on Highway 165

                                       Fall From Inside Abandoned Homestead On Highway 165

One of the many joys of living in Colorado is being able to take off on a fall day trip and enjoy some leaf peeping.

In the over two decades that we've enjoyed Colorado, this is the first time we've chosen State Highway 165. And we're glad we did. There are certainly more well-known and spectacular views on other roads. But even at the height of leaf peeping (Oct. 5) the highway had very light traffic and ample opportunities to pull over and take pictures and enjoy the crisp, but balmy mountain air.

SH 165 starts at the junction of SH 96, about 15 miles east of Silver Cliff. Continue on SH 165 and you'll drive by the unique attraction of Bishop's Castle and also eventually hit stunning San Isabel Lake.

                                             Leaf Peeping And Some Great Rock Formations

Yet another bonus of the mostly undiscovered SH 165 is there are two roads to the tiny town of Beulah that intersect. Both roads are rather rough and a 4-wheel drive or high-clearance vehicle is recommended.

                                                                 Uncrowded Views

Like most highways off the beaten track in Colorado, there is always something unique to discover. The altitudes on this road reach well over 9,000 feet, so bring plenty of water. There aren't many amenities along this stretch of SH 165 and the only opportunities for food are drink are a concession stand at Bishop's Castle and a good restaurant by Lake San Isabel.

                              A Lone Aspen Makes A Statement Above An Abandoned Homestead

pictures and text submitted by D. H. of southern Colorado

Have a story or pictures of a place of interest in your neck of the woods? Submit to: wildwordsclub@gmail.com for possible publication on this blog. Let the world know what is special about where you live.

Florence Colorado's Finest: Officer, There's A Rattlesnake In My House!

Duct Tape: One of Law Enforcement's Finest Tools In Snake Wrangling

I came home after a long day's work at an antique store on Florence's Main Street. For those of you who don't know, Florence Colorado is a friendly, small town that is also the Antiques Capital of Colorado. And for those of you who don't know: Florence is also home to one of the finest police forces. I should know--I've had enough interactions with them in my few short years here. 

And for those who don't know: Florence has quite the bunch of animals alternately amusing and scaring the heck out of some of its residents.

I put my feet up and heard a few crackling noises. I didn't think much of it. We had had a mouse in the free-standing pine cupboard in our kitchen a few weeks ago. One day when I went to get some dog food out of the cupboard, I scared the mouse and it flew onto me, as we both screamed and both went running for cover. I figured the mouse was back.

But the rustling noises were so persistent, I finally called upon my mellow Collie and feisty (but chicken)  Terrier to be of some use, other than being adorable and loyal, and check out the noises. Both pooches dutifully went into the kitchen and the Collie looked alarmed and herded something, possibly by the kitchen sink.

I went back to relaxing. Got dinner on. My husband came home from a really long day at work and we settled in to watch Sleepy Hollow.    I heard a crackling noise, grabbed the remote to turn the TV down and asked my husband, "What is that noise?"   

I still had the remote in my hand when he got up and yelled, "My gosh! There's a rattlesnake under the bookcase!"

Always calm under pressure, he told me to get the dogs into the bedroom. Of course, they were timidly walking towards the little serpent. We all ran to the bedroom. Well, not my husband. I'll call my husband, Dirk.

Dirk, stood in the living room staring at where he last saw the snake disappear under the bookcase. I hissed, from the bedroom, "Call 911! And come to the bedroom NOW!."

I'm calm (in my actions) in threatening situations--but I tend to flap my arms like a bird and hiss a lot when a mouse jumps out of a cupboard on me, or when a rattlesnake rattles for at least 30 seconds under any of my furniture.

"Call 911!"

Dirk attempted to get Siri (or whatever the heck that lady's name is on the I-phone) to get the non-emergency number for Florence Police Department. But he refuses to run like a chicken to the bedroom and tells me he needs to see where the snake is and if it stays in place. Our conversation goes like this:

Dirk: Find Florence Police Department.

Siri: I've found two police departments. Do you want me to call emergency services?

Me: It's a damn emergency! Tell Siri to call 911. Or better yet--you do it!

Dirk: Find Florence Police Department.

Siri: I've found two police departments. Do you want me to call emergency services?

Me: Call 911 right now or I'll strike worse than a rattlesnake.

Dirk is finally compelled by my hysterical tones to call 911. If my phone hadn't been too close to the snake, I would have called 911 without getting Siri involved. Dirk later told me that he was trying to call non-emergency because he didn't want to get chastised for calling 911 for a questionable reason. I wonder what would have qualified for an emergency in Dirk's opinion? Godzilla busting through our roof? An escapee from Super Max knocking on our door and asking for cupcakes, a change of clothes and traveling money? 

Officers from Florence Police Department arrive a few moments later. I peek my head out of the bedroom door and saw two uniformed officers. I somehow expected them to have big leather gloves, I guess like the kind you use to train falcons and perhaps a beekeeper's headgear and some boots. And maybe a snake-catching hook. I see nothing of the sort and yell at one of the officers," Do you have some type of tools or equipment?"

One officer chuckles, "Nope. The only tool I have is a lack of common sense."

My adrenalin levels were so high that I seem to remember mumbling something to Dirk about having concerns that they aren't trained for this--and where the heck is someone from wildlife or the humane society, or the snake wrangling society.

The officer assures me that he can handle this and I tell him I am just concerned for their safety. After all, I had stuffed clothes and plastic under the bedroom door cracks in case something went wrong.

I decide to close the door and keep my semi-hysteria to myself and let Florence's finest do their job. After all, Dirk is watching out for them. Dirk later confided that he would have done the snake wrangling himself, with possibly the help of a male friend a few blocks away, but he knew I would not permit that. He got that right!

I have the bedroom door shut and nearly hermetically sealed, But I do hear the officer ask if we have a wire coat hanger. The words are barely out his mouth and I'm flinging a wire coat hanger down the hallway. I then ask if a metal trash can would help. "It sure would," the officer answers.

I fling that like a hockey puck down the hallway and this time keep the door closed.

I hear some rattling. I'm quivering and consider yelling,"Just shoot the darn snake, I don't care about my house or belongings!" I shut my mouth. And in case you don't know--I get upset if I accidentally step on a snail and am a member of the ASPCA and the Humane Society. So, killing a snake is not first on my list of options.

I hear more rattling. Then the officer, the lead snake wrangler, screamed an expletive. "Oh, pardon my French."

"Don't worry," Dirk muttered, "I've said a lot worse."

This is not going well, so I stuff more things under the door and another expletive is heard. I'm actually thinking more and worse expletives in my thoughts than the officer could ever utter.

More rattling, thumping and then silence. I decided to pull up my big girl panties and see what's going on.

The officer said," Hey, do you have any duct tape? And hey, what about a piece of cardboard box?"

Ah, the high-tech world of snake wrangling.Dirk runs to the garage to trim some cardboard. I'm still shivering in the bedroom and finally get enough guts to see what is going on.

Ah, the officer and lead snake handler is proudly crouched by a large vintage Quality Candies tin that we use as a trash can. He is holding down a neatly trimmed piece of cardboard and waiting for Dirk to bring some duct tape.

Now, I purchased this candy tin (now a snake cage) from a fellow antique dealer who used to work at the same shop as I did. And come to think of it, I also purchased the lovely pine bookcase the snake was hiding under from her. We no longer work at the same antique store, but she still works downtown in the trade--so I think I'll have to pay her a visit this weekend and tell her to take her voodoo hex snake powder curse off the two items I purchased from her that were involved in the rattlesnake battle.

The officer, whom I will now refer to as, Officer Hero, was smiling and asked me if I'd like to take a peek at the rattlesnake before the cardboard got taped down.

"Thanks, but heck no!"

"Oh, come on," he cajoled," Curiosity will get the best of you!"

"No, it won't," I screeched.

Seeing my obvious agitation and lingering affects of adrenalin, he decided to comfort me with the information that there were a lot of rattlesnakes around here. Well, I'll be darned. We live in a newer house in the developed part of Florence. Certainly not on farmland or in the more rural areas.

Dirk brought in the duct tape. Officer Hero and the other two officers--I did not notice until I calmed down that there were three officers-- did a bang up job of duct taping the cardboard to the candy tin.

I ask all of them what I can do for them, since I am grateful for what they did. "Nothing, we get paid for this," one of the other officers replied.

You don't get paid enough, I am thinking. I was thinking along the lines of buying tickets for the Policeman's Ball, if Florence even has such a thing, or donating to some police charity--but am too rattled (pun intended) to pursue that idea.

"Okay," Officer Hero said," We'll take care of the snake and be back to return the tin later. And if it's too late and you're not up, we'll just leave it on the porch."

"Oh, I think I'll be up most of the night after this."

Officer Hero was truly fantastic. He had attempted to get the snake by just blindly scooping at it with the hanger and then later this hook-type thing called a Thera-Cane that one uses to reach sore spots in places you can't reach.

Dirk later told me Officer Hero and the other officers didn't wish to move the bookcase because they were afraid of breaking things. Of course, Dirk told them that people were more important than our things.

So, right before the officers left to take care of the rattler, he had the other two move the bookcase back. It turns out Officer Hero is a bit of an interior decorator. He told the other two officers after they moved the bookcase back, "Hey, that's not centered!"

They immediately centered it.

If you look at the above picture, blurry as it is, due to Dirk still being a bit rattled when taking the picture, in the foreground is a pile of dust bunnies. As I came staggering out of the bedroom that's the first thing I noticed before the snake  candy tin. "Oh my God," I yelled," Are those dust bunnies?! On top of this, do I have to be embarrassed in front of the police due to dust bunnies?"

Dirk later told me the officers were going to release the sneaky serpent back into the wild.

I asked Dirk what all the mild cussing and noises were. "Oh, the snake just kept escaping and striking at him."

"Oh, is that all?"

I asked Officer Hero if he'd ever done this before. "Unfortunately, I've done it a few times."

Officer Hero grabbed the tin, which was rattling louder than a tambourine.

And that kids, is why the Florence Police Department is great. It really helps to have an officer with the same twisted sense of humor I have.

Dirk later told me that Officer Hero was teasing me about showing me the snake, because if he lifted the lid it would have continued striking at him. 

So, next time you see one of Florence's finest--raise your respect and a roll of duct tape for all they do.