Wednesday, March 11, 2009

Clothesline Therapy

I was frustrated earlier this beautiful March day, having midday words with Mark and annoyed that my to-do list got thrown under the bus. I'd told myself upon reviewing Wednesday's weather last night that today would be the year's first laundry load to be dried in the precious sunshine. So, before joining my husband to make some headway toward completing Dylan's nearly two-year-old Almost Finished Treehouse, I stomped outside to hang the wash.

Something funny happens when you are snapping clothespins on clean damp fabric under the warmth of that bright glowing orb. Fresh wash flutters all around you, drying even as you hang it. Like other elemental tasks, there's no hurrying it - it is what it is and "efficiency" only robs you of the satisfaction it can bring.

Birds are singing, our dog and cats casually case the joint, chickens saunter up to see what surprises I might be hoarding. I hear the neighbor's faraway chain saw hard at work at its first Spring project and the soprano baa's of our newest flock member.

Undies and socks on the inner lines. Next come PJs. T-shirts and track pants hold the middle ground, and finally, towels and napkins show themselves to the few neighbors who might pass this way. 1, 2, 3, 4. 1, 2, 3, 4. 1, 2, 3, 4. 1, 2, 3, 4. And, we're done.

It takes longer than tossing everything into the giant front-loading dryer, but when you take into account that each item is folded as it comes down, the total differential is probably less than you might predict. And, it's time well-spent - excellent for humming that funny song from high school or solving the world's problems or even just planning out the rest of the day.

It is easy in this small farm life, and I suspect most others, to rush to get through the chore that sits in front of you. But, then in its place sits another and another. If you rush to get through them all, all you get is tired. On the other hand, take a deep breath and enjoy what must be done and you can sometimes discover that it leads to unexpected pleasures.

Like taking joy in building a treehouse with your husband.

1 comment:

Shea's Mom said...

Sweet post. Makes me long for a clothes line.