You can thank the French for more than fries. They are, in fact, responsible for how a lot of us spent a chunk of our time (and money) last weekend, browsing, buying and eating our way down Highway 51 in Wesson at the marché aux puces. The flea market.

Yes, the art of rummaging through cast offs actually has roots in fashionable Paris, where markets specializing in shabby second-hand goods – the kind that might contain fleas – originated. Here on the other side of the Atlantic, the National Flea Market Association tells us that today our own country has more than 1,100 of these outdoor bazaars in operation, visited by some 150 million customers each year. Annual sales at these shindigs, for you bottom-liners, hover around a cool $30 billion.

Which brings us (literally) to the Wesson Flea Market, an October fixture that compels smart bargain hunters to wipe the sleep from their eyes and go searching for deals. It’s one of Mississippi’s best-known flea markets, attracting collectors, re-doers and deal makers to its streets on a Saturday that must compete with SEC games and bow season. By the looks of the crowd last Saturday, it can hold its own.

With smells reminiscent of a carnival midway, the flea market attracts many who come simply for the sake of strolling in the sunshine. Serious shoppers, however, admit that among the truck beds full of discarded glassware, artwork and jewelry, there is the hope of a treasure.

And a chance to experience time travel, like this frequent flea marketer shared: “One time I was scrounging through a box of stuff and when I came up for air, I realized I had been somewhere else for a while. It’s very easy for me to look at things and imagine whom they must have belonged to, who played with them, how long the people had had them, why they threw them out.”

An imagination like that can serve you well at a place like the Wesson Flea Market, where every concessionaire has a story, and most items have a past. That’s why I made a list of interesting things I saw last Saturday, including Army uniforms (is that legal?), a bird house with a front porch swing, Sloppy Joe dogs and:

• A wooden sign, boldly proclaiming, “When I think about exercise, I lay down until the thought passes.”

• Free books. Kudos to the Wesson Library for clearing out and sharing at the same time.

• Burlap bows bigger than a baby’s head. Who would have thought this country cloth could become so popular?

• A clothesline where vintage aprons hung flapping in the breeze. Beautiful, yet sad. All that handwork for four dollars.

• Band-Aids with Botox promises. Hey, what woman my age wouldn’t stop for that?

• A metal eagle weather vane. This would be the one thing that caught my husband’s attention. It would also be the one thing we saw that was priced over $300.

Unfortunately, the one thing I was looking for – chow chow – was a hunt that left me empty-handed. Green? Red? Who knows what my son had in mind? That’s when the French-inspired flea market took on an Italian edge, with me saying “ciao” to the vendor. I went home instead with an ornate frame and a yard of fabric. Everyone at the annual event seems to walk away with something – if only a good time. I’m just glad I didn’t come home with a hermit crab this year.

 Wesson resident Kim Henderson is a freelance writer who writes for The Daily Leader. Contact her at kimhenderson319@gmail.com.