(re-post)
A laundry basket may enter the picture at some point, (I have had several in the past, but for the moment the wet clothing gets carried from washing machine to clothes lines in a bit of a hug. Then dropped onto the grass. It looks nice, all the colors in a tumble on the green grass. It looks nice, all the textures on the textured blades of grass.
There are two lines, strung between trees. The higher, longer one takes long items like towels and sheets and pillow cases and dresses and shirts. The shorter one is perfect for washcloths and socks. Both are bright yellow.
Many years ago a special lady gifted me with a brand new package of clothespins, the snap kind, on each of which she had written a word like Integrity, Enthusiasm, Sunshine, Robins, Hope, Love. More recently a friend brought me back clothes pegs from a trip abroad.
Each item of wash must be shaken before it is put on the line. This is what my mother did and the memory and the rightness and the niceness of doing so has me continuing the practice across a lifetime.
An item such as a towel is picked up from the grass one at a time, two hands needed to shake it out, then two clothespins are pulled from my apron pocket and I take note of the 'message' on each as it attaches the towel to the line, right corner first, then left. Some people hang from left to right. Some people hang from right to left. I am of the latter group.
It doesn't matter if the towel is folded over the line before it is pegged. But the linen table cloth which will likely be used as material and turned into a garment does not want a crease on the edge so it is pinned flat and the clothespin must be placed accordingly, just so.
Wash cloths are picked up from the grass seven or eight at a time, tucked under left arm, released one at a time into right hand, given the requisite shake (this sets free any creases or lint), a corner put over the line, held with left hand while right reaches out a clothespin from pocket, then pegged. The eye gauges the amount of line needed for the number of washcloths and this decides the spacing of the cloths.
There is wind and sun and sky and clouds. There is a neighborhood cat washing her plumy tail a few feet away. There is birdsong. There is coolness and warmth from the wet clothes and the spring wind and the sun. There is gratitude and contentment.
Posted on May 21, 2007 at 06:49 AM | Permalink
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