Like the return of the bluefish to Cape Cod, the annual Provincetown Monumental Yard Sale heralds spring, with locals clearing out their homes and stores of old items to make room for the new. The town is dotted with all-caps signs announcing TAG SALE, YARD SALE, and sometimes just FREE.

As a longtime peruser and occasional collector of anything old and musty, I was dreaming of discount Peter Hunt wardrobes and Japanese ceramics, but as I fight my way up the steps to my first tag sale of the day, I see that I will need to adjust my expectations. Located on Commercial Street in the center of town, the place is so jammed with tourists it’s hard to see the merchandise, most of which looks suspiciously new and has the word “Provincetown” on it. Antiques Roadshow this is not.

When I come home empty-handed, my uncle, a longtime Provincetown resident, explains my newbie mistake. “Some of the businesses use the sale as an excuse to clear out last season’s junk,” he says.

For the good stuff, we would need to go farther afield, so we get in the car and head across Route 6 to the yard of Lise Balk King. Spread on a table and in front of her condo is an assortment of objets d’art, antiques, and knickknacks picked up on her travels.

“As an artist, I use a lot of this stuff for creative inspiration,” she says, holding up a 19th-century pitcher featuring a man in a kilt hunting a stag. The piece led her down a rabbit hole on Scottish clans and their tartans. “It’s not about the value; it’s about the research.”

Other pieces on offer are of a more personal nature. King began collecting when she lived in South Dakota and started attending auctions and estate sales. “You’d see these guys out of central casting, with the handlebar mustaches,” she recalls. At the time, she was married to an Indigenous man and became particularly interested in Native American art as well as objects that represented Native Americans, however problematically. In a bowl is a collection of old “cowboys and Indians” with pistols and bows and arrows drawn. They’re made of lead and coated in chipped lead paint — definitely not safe for children to use as toys, she says — but very collectable.

Browsing King’s sale are mother and daughter Heather and Kayla Duncan. The younger Duncan, who is visiting her mother for the weekend, is drawn to a late 19th- or early 20th-century piece of calligraphy. It reads: “The Creed is to love and be loved, to get something more out of life than a leisurely existence, and to create something of worth above the measure of money.”

“I just got divorced, and this just feels appropriate,” Kayla says. “I get a sense of peace, like it’s a sign that I did the right thing.”

“And it’s going to look great in her house,” Heather adds.

As for this reporter: two works stand out. One is an architectural drawing and the other an inky pair of women, perhaps drag queens, by a local artist. After a brief haggle from $48 to $45, we get back in the car and drive on to new pastures.

Down the road, we arrive at the sale of Stephen Benson. In his front yard is an array of workout equipment, car parts, electronics, and other miscellaneous items, and in his cellar is a large rack of leather pants, vests, and jackets. These intrigue me.

“I have a lot of leather,” Benson says. “It was a pandemic hobby. I was looking on eBay, buying stuff, and pretty soon I had three closets full. I feel like it’s served its purpose, and I hope it brings somebody use and pleasure.”

None fit my frame or my style, so it’s on to the sale of Chris and Kathleen Snow. Chris may be known for litigating matters at town meetings, but at the yard sale in front of his house he defers to his wife. “She runs the show,” he says.

Kathleen explains that the assembled items were mostly inherited from deceased family members. “OPS: Other people’s stuff.” Without children of their own, it was time to clear things out.

Among this “stuff” is some true vintage clothing — an old medallion-print tie catches my eye — along with art and furniture from various periods. One man, who declined to give his name, picks out a tiny Italian cloisonné box to add to the collection in his bathroom. He wants an antique shaving mirror, he says, “but my partner will kill me if I bring that home.”

While I’m browsing, Michael Bailey-Gates, a photographer and part-time Provincetown resident, finds a weathered vintage lampshade, goes out for cash, and comes back to seal the deal for $10. He isn’t sure if he will cut it up, repaint it, or leave it as is, but he’s attracted to its “patina.” He recently returned from the Brimfield Antique Flea Market, the largest outdoor antique show in the country, which attracts thousands of visitors each year. “I call it the gay thrifting Olympics,” he says. While the selection there is unmatched, it’s hard to get a deal. “Prices are lower in P’town,” and the atmosphere is more relaxed.

Leaving an item unattended is always a dangerous proposition, and not all sellers will respect a handshake agreement without cash in hand. I see this put to the test when Kathleen brings out the hottest item of the day, a wooden statue of St. Francis of Assisi, which already has a buyer. As if drawn by a magnet or the Holy Spirit itself, a woman immediately inquires about the statue.

“It’s sold!” Kathleen says. She orders Chris to take it back inside. “We can’t risk him!”

Back in the car, we leave the Snows’ sale and headed down Commercial Street to the border between Provincetown and Truro, arriving at the busy sale of Sarah Beals and Carol Sherry, who suggest I call them “the Swag Sisters.”

The Swag Sisters have been doing the Provincetown Monumental Yard Sale for five years, selling a combination of dead relatives’ clothes and furniture (a common theme), boxes of CDs, Lee Child books, a fondue set, and assorted theatrical props from Beals’s days in the theater.

Beals is negotiating with a young man named Michael J. Hart, who holds a worn leather bag in his hands. “It needs some TLC,” Hart admits, but as a collector of vintage handbags, he could already envision how it would look once he has restored it. What did he plan to carry in his new bag? “Documents, my laptop, and possibly some scones. It’s a perfect picnic bag.”

For $10, all parties walk away happy. I ask the Swag Sisters if they had any tips they could share, especially when it comes to bargaining.

“I do the usual,” says Beals. “If I ask 10 and they say five, then I meet them in the middle.” However, when it comes to low-ballers, she has her self-respect. “I actually say no if I know the good value of something.

“But there is one exception,” Beals adds. “If I really just don’t want to carry the thing home.”