This was the ultimate find on the free table – two Picasso sketches, framed with provenance on the back. Ford, an employee at the transfer station, noticed the Picassos as they rested unclaimed. He thought he should not be the one to pick them up – that showed great decency and restraint on his part. But as the hours rolled by, he started to wonder what would become of them in the final moment before closing when sometimes much unclaimed stuff hit the dumpster? Just seconds before closing time, a woman approached, turned the pictures over and gasped. “Picasso!” she cried and ran for her car. She returned a few days later to report she’d called the art gallery listed on the back and they’d offered her $8000 for the pair. They apparently weren’t the best Picassos but, hey, they were Picasso!

I’ve been continually delighted to find items mysteriously fitting my taste and even my immediate needs at the transfer station. Most recently I broke the last of my red wine balloon glasses only to discover a set of four with fanciful designs and three more that were plain but perfect for my preferred Shiraz wine. I’ve found many signed valuable porcelain platters and countless lovely woven baskets. There are certain items one can reliably pick up: glass flower vases and coffee machines. Maybe hordes of my neighbors switched to Keurig coffee makers as I have found a series of Braun coffee makers in perfect working condition.

When the perils of plastic cookware were publicized, many sets of black Teflon pots appeared. I do note that there are sometimes obvious connections – people must get tired of non-dishwasher, non-microwavable dishes but I still love my retrieved full set of Bavarian china and signed Spode dessert plates. I passed on a full set of Limoges. I try not to be greedy. I had just picked up a stunning 19th century etching of the Brooklyn Bridge when I sensed the woman behind me leaning in with palpable yearning. I handed it to her and she lit up like 10,000 watts. I resisted the appealing vintage winemaker’s cork-inserting device so perhaps a home winemaker could have it.

Sometimes, there is drama: One day, I saw an older couple approach the table, lugging large white trash bags to deposit. The man looked gruff, his lady sad. I had a sense she had been nagged to get rid of her big sacks of linens. I happen to love old linen and when I opened the bags they were stuffed with vintage hand-embroidered pillowcases and beautiful ironed tablecloths. “Don’t worry,” I told her, “they’re going to the right home.” She looked relieved.

The most valuable find I ever made was a Florentine mirror that now graces my powder room, though the set of beveled mirrors with brass candle sconces may be just as precious. I admit I’ve picked up less rare and romantic items such as a great long-handled soup ladle. I said no to a brand new toilet bowl. The oddest object I passed on was a sculpted life-size head of Jesus Christ.

A most recent find is a verdigris frog statuette set on a lily pad with a fountain insert in its green butt. A perfect birthday surprise for my frog-obsessed daughter. “I love it!” she cried when I presented it to her. It’s this element of discovering unexpected joy that makes the transfer station a true treasure hunt. Maybe the best things in life are on the free table.

Laura Shaine Cunningham is the author of many plays and books, including A Place in the Country.