True To Form

Nothing if not consistent, yesterday was a day off.  The best I could do was put the servants to work.  Hanging laundry on another gorgeous day was not considered a chore; it's still one of my most favorite jobs.  There was just enough breeze to provide the music to set the bibbies and shirts dancing.  There are no fabric softeners or dryer sheets that can beat the scent of sun-dried clothes fresh off the line.

I really don't mind washing dishes by hand, either.  There is something almost sensuous about the feel of soapy warm water.  It is almost mandatory to have a window to look out, though.  The job always goes much faster than anticipated when one can see birds, sky, trees changing with the seasons, and whatever might be growing at the time (even weeds).  I've only ever lived in one place that didn't have a window over the sink, a place I was not unhappy to leave.  Since I do have a dishwasher, it only makes sense to use it, but it takes a while to fill when I only use one or two dishes a day, and I don't run it semi-empty.  It is quite satisfying to put clean plates and glasses that I didn't wash back in the cupboard.

Yesterday Emmy commented on the song "My Time Of Day" from the 1950 musical "Guys And Dolls," referring to the dark of morning.  We are of a like mind.  As a kid, I never understood why, no matter how early I got up my mother was always awake.  There is no earthly reason why I should get up now anywhere between 3:30-5 a.m., other than that is "my time."  I love seeing the sky lighten and hear birds waking up outside.  There is a neighborhood rooster, however, who needs a few lessons on how to crow.  The best he can manage is cock-a doooo, never getting to the doodle-do.  Once the sun comes up and I get dressed, it's time to gear up for the goats and whatever else the day might bring.  "My time" is over.