Saturday, August 15, 2009
So much for Tuesday’s twenty-two-sleeps-until-it’s-Spring-knitting-storm. Winter is so last season. Spring is right here. Right now.
I know this, because the seemingly permanent geographical feature in our laundry, has been reduced to a mere ‘Two More Washing Loads And Someone’s A Domestic Goddess’ blip. A blustery, twenty-one degree Saturday, was a blessing for this Mum, after a tough couple of days. While I’m not about to shout it out loud or anything, there is therapy to be found in hanging washing on a line, finding the glimpses of sky, the crisp smell of blown about, clean laundry. There is a quiet to be stolen in commandeering the trampoline for folding and sorting and a tiny snooze-let in the sun, camouflaged from the rest of the world by a stack of pyjamas and a teetering odd sock pile.