For whatever reason, I always feel compelled to take a picture of my clothes hanging on the line. I suppose it's simply explained- I just think there is something so pretty and so simple and truly elegant about laundry on the line. Such an excellent method of drying clothes when it's possible, using both solar and wind energy. And my energy too, when I consider it, because it is a tiny bit more or a chore to lug a heavy laundry basket full of damp clothes to the line than it is to open the washer, take out the items, and throw them in the dryer. For me there is no chore at all to the actual pinning of them to the line. I have my system and each category of laundry has its own place which makes it easier when I take the laundry down and fold it into the basket so that it is all neatly arranged to put away as soon as I get back in the house with it.
Isn't that ridiculous? But that's the way I am and that is the way I hang my laundry. One thing I really like about doing laundry is that it is a chore that is so definable. Unlike dusting or cleaning a bathroom, which I never feel as if I am doing thoroughly. A load of laundry is a load of laundry and when it is done and put away, that is a completed task. Of course, by that point the laundry hamper may be full again but that will be a different task for another day.
It was so warm today and so breezy that even the thickest towel got dry.
I gave the chickens fresh hay this afternoon and spread the poopy hay on some roses that I cut back awhile ago- the ones that never bloom, probably because they don't get enough sun. But it felt as if I was at least doing something to try and urge them along. Things are just popping up and popping out all over here.
The bridal wreath spirea is starting to make the miniature wreaths. Did I already post this picture? I don't think so.
The wild azalea is budding up and today when I was hauling a load of pruned vines I saw that the sweet little white wild violets are opening in the yard by the bamboo.
I brought those in and put them in my smallest "vase"- in this case a beautiful little bottle I found in the yard that must have had either some sort of medication in it or perhaps, perfume.
The hens are being as fecund as the plants, giving me anywhere from eight to a dozen eggs a day. I sort of hope and sort of very much do not hope that one decides to go broody and sit on a clutch of eggs. It's always such a perilous and anxiety-producing experience.
For me, of course. Not for the hens. I mean, they do all the work but I do all the worrying.
And on top of all of that, Mr. Moon just told me that I needed to go ahead and make some cream sauce because we will be having peas and potatoes soon. This is something I used to make back when Hank and May were tiny children. I would steam my garden potatoes and sugar snap peas in the pod and make a simple, light white sauce for them and that is one of the most delicious things in the world to my taste. But I'm pretty sure that my husband's use of the word "soon" is relative and that I do not need to get out the butter and flour and milk quite yet. Those two plants are just now busting out of the dirt.
But yes, in the near future.
As much as I dread the heat of summer there will be no stopping it so I might as well enjoy this transition from winter into summer as much as possible, noting the new growth, the flowers, the eggs, the real and true and observable rebirth we call spring.
It would be a sin not to, wouldn't it?
I think so.
Here I am, noticing, nodding my head in agreement with the way such things are arranged here on earth, feeling the ever-more swiftly running sap of it all, the quickening of life within both flora and fauna, producing the sweetest, tenderest, and perhaps strongest growth there is, and within me too.
Spring? That will be nice when it comes. It was -26C this morning which is bloody cold. I bought carrot seeds today because I want to hurry spring up. I also bought peat pellets to plant my tomato seeds in next month. We live in such different climates, you might as well be on the other side of the planet.ReplyDelete
I'll let you know what Dr. Mate suggests. He's an interesting man who's struggles with addiction and ADD his whole life. He worked in Vancouver with drug addicts. His own addiction was classical music until you realize that he would drop $3000 on music in an afternoon, or miss the delivery of a baby he was responsible for. He also talks about compassion and he's kind of my hero.
That book sounds so interesting. I really should read it. It sounds like he is very compassionate and to me, compassion is part of the supreme energy we call love. That's my feeling, anyway.Delete
We DO live on different sides of the planet, don't we? Sort of. Yep. My carrots are big enough to pick now. Soon we'll be putting in tomatoes and peppers and green beans.
Funny how many Floridians dread the sweltering heat of summer while we English look forward to summer and hope we will have plenty of warm daysReplyDelete
But it's completely understandable!Delete
Creamed fresh peas? Be still my heart!ReplyDelete
AND baby new potatoes.Delete
Your plans for potatoes and peas sound good...Have a sweet night.ReplyDelete
They need to do some growing first though!Delete
Spring in February! Amazing. Lovely, too. My signs of life, aside from the snow drop, singular, are the rosettes starting at the roots of the sedum, always exciting.ReplyDelete
I love the smell of line dried laundry.
When the first land magnates started trying to get people to move to Florida, they lied about a lot of things and did not mention many others. Like...mosquitoes and alligators. However, they certainly were truthful about our flowers in what would be late winter up north.Delete
That's a whole lotta eggs!ReplyDelete
For twelve hens, it sure is! They're gettin' ON it!Delete
I almost could roll in a basket of wet laundry, the smell is so intoxicating. But it's smell when it has been dried on the line is ambrosia. And it feel different to the skin too, whether sheets or shirts.ReplyDelete
I agree. And I've quit using scented laundry products which suits me fine. Some people do not like the stiffness produced by a line dry but I do. Even the towels.Delete
The photo of your laundry on the line utterly charms me- I love it so much. Maybe i will paint it one day when i get over my inhibition. Some of the buds here thought it was spring- they were mistaken, Cold wind is howling and the little raccoons are shivering.ReplyDelete
Oh, please paint laundry on a line! Call it "Domestic Prayer Flags."Delete
Poor raccoons. And poor little buds. They do get fooled, don't they?
I love pegging out my wet washing and then enjoy just as much when I fold things off the line into the basket and everything smells like sunshine and fresh air. I love getting into bed at night when the sheets have been line dried that same day. Dusting? not so much. By the time I finish it doesn't look any different, unless I first don't do any dusting for six months or so.ReplyDelete
Well, even if you don't dust for six months (or so) it doesn't look that different after you do it unless you look closely. Ask me how I know!Delete
You are right about laundry!
Nothing is budding out here yet. Everything is still just as leafless as it was last week. Well, except for the maple tree. I don't have a clothes line. I do have the pole which are rusting but no lines. But I don't do the laundry and I doubt that 'the fewer steps the better' Marc would make the effort anyway.ReplyDelete
Somehow I cannot see Marc hanging out the laundry even though I do not know him.Delete
Your buds will be coming. As you know.
Rain here today which is melting the snow so that may be our "touch of Spring" here in Illinois! We are supposed to get a bit more snow on Thursday but the days are getting warmer bit by bit. We are used to waiting until April/May and so it isn't so bad.ReplyDelete
I love your writing and your word choices - you do a wonderful job of conveying your feelings and thoughts. Thanks!
Rain melting snow does not sound very springlike to me but what do I know? I suppose our spring is a far quicker and immediate event. For you, much patience is required.Delete
Thank you for those sweet words about my writing. You've made my day!
I completely understand dreading the heat. But I am SO looking forward to summer. (Of course it's milder here!)ReplyDelete
I love those violets and I never tire of seeing laundry on a line.
Aren't the violets just precious?Delete
And of course you understand dreading the heat! You're a Florida boy! (Not to be confused with Florida Man.)
It seems like full on spring here. I love watching everything slowly start to bloom and the birds getting busy and vocal all of a sudden. Maybe it's because I'm a March baby, but spring is my favorite season.ReplyDelete
I love the idea of drying laundry on a line, but Gregg complains that the clothes are too stiff when they're dried that way. How do you (or can you) prevent that? Then there's the ironing...I'm not real big on ironing. The dryer is my iron! Haha!
As I am reading your comment and then making this reply, I can hear birds all over the neighborhood talking in the most cheerful manner!Delete
Yes. It is hard not to love spring.
As to the stiff clothes- well, Gregg is not wrong. They are stiffer and my husband has told me that he doesn't like towels hung on the line. Do I care? Well, of course. But do I dry all of his towels in the dryer? I do not.
And yes, some clothes need ironing more after hanging outside although if you hang shirts on hangers and it's a nice breezy day, they can look pretty good by the time they're dried.
Every year I can hardly wait for drying-the-laundry-outside season to begin. Almost there, almost.ReplyDelete
And I can relate to your system of how to wash and hang. I get slightly grumpy when someone wants to help and hangs it all this way and that. (Don't tell anyone.)
I won't tell anyone, Sabine but I will tell you this- I don't like it at all when people volunteer to help me hang clothes. In fact, I sort of hate it. It's like when someone tries to hold the dust pan for me when I sweep. Uh- no. I got that down, thank you.Delete
Laundry on a line is visual poetry, the story of a household told in cloth. I always think that when I see your pictures of it. They're lovely.ReplyDelete