There's a need to roll up one's sleeves when washing clothing by hand and inherent in that action is a certain satisfaction, a contentment. Perhaps some ancient memory is evoked. Perhaps it is simply the rhythm of rolling and folding, first one sleeve, then the next.
There is a washing machine in the basement and it serves well when there are sheets and large towels to be washed. There is a dryer as well but it only gets used when I felt objects. I have had a lifelong affection for lines that spread wet cloth to the wind and sun and result in fragrant, crisp dry items.
Today there were only washcloths and one towel and one ivory blouse. Sleeves were rolled up, the large basin brought out from its neat place at the end of the clawfoot, the large basin set in the tub and filled with hot water. Soap and bleach were added. Then the dirty laundry. The bathroom filled up with the scent of steam and soap and bleach. A sudsy hand lifted to brush some strands of hair away from face. A washboard was not available so knuckles had to suffice for the scrubbing of blouse neck and cuffs. In another time and another place I would have been in the company of other women, sharing conversation, perhaps comparing whitening skills.
Two rinsings felt necessary today. Then a third one for the blouse. It was taken, dripping wet, in the basin, outdoors, hung on a hanger, hung on a hook and is presently drying. It will be a slow process, today in autumn weather, starting from soaking wet. But it will become smooth in the process, and starched, as the weight of the water presses it. In summer weather it would dry much more quickly. And I am reminded of how, in India, we would stand on one end of our freshly washed saree, hold the other end in our hands, use the wind to billow out the six yards of thin fabric and dry it within minutes. Today I may be bringing a still damp blouse indoors as night begins to happen, may be hanging it on the shower hook to dry indoors, overnight.
The washcloths and towel get wrung out before being taken outdoors to hang and dry: wrinkles are not an issue and they will press and starch from damp.
Years ago when I moved house a woman gave me a gift of clothespins and on each she wrote a word like Sunshine and Happiness and Intuition and Butterfly and Perseverance............ I have passed on this gift to others. I have retained it for myself.
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