Spring has sprung; the pleasure and the pain.
This is our first warm spring day here on the farm.
I have to share part of the pleasure of spring with you.
I must wax rhapsodic about the clothesline.
There is nothing that says spring like the sight of clothes drying on the line, under a blue as sapphires sky.
It smells so good to breathe in the outdoors on the sheets and towels.
Good as in just bathed baby good, or even homemade bread just out of the oven good.
I recall the very first time I did laundry on my own. I was 16 years old, away for a week at basketball camp.
If there’s one place that necessitates a washing of the socks, its high school sports camp.
I went to the local store and picked up the yellow box of Sunlight soap, my mother’s brand.
Later, sitting in the laundry room, I stared at the soap box while waiting for the dryer to finish.
Why was there an image of a wineglass on the laundry soap box? Did mothers toast themselves after a successful laundry day or something?
It then dawned on me - I had used automatic dishwasher soap on the laundry.
It worked out alright, though. I had the whitest socks at camp.
Now I have part of the pain of spring to share with you.
Look at what is thriving in my back yard.
It’s still too cold to put any plants or seeds into the soil, and I have just this very day shed my winter coat for my spring one. And I’m weeding.
Do you share my pleasure? Or my pain? Tell me, I’m listening.