Appreciating the small things...
Outside on a summer evening, watching the moon rise and the cats arrange themselves attractively amongst the roses, I pull down the day's laundry. It's quiet outside, the wind is cool. The laundry is starting to pick up a bit of the evening damp - I've waited a bit too long to bring it in. Not enough to make redrying necessary, just enough to remind me to rearrange my circadian a bit.
I can think my own thoughts out there. I don't know why it's any different from being in my bedroom, folding up a bed's worth of laundry from the dryer, but it is. You'd think laundry is laundry.... but perhaps there's a reason all that art is made of women and clotheslines.
My daughter loves to come out and help me, maybe there's a reason for mother/daughter portraits like this? I have been enjoying having my peace, I haven't called the children to come learn this skill yet. I'll teach both of them... perhaps next week. We do a lot of laundry around here, there's plenty of peace to go 'round.
I learned to hang laundry as a child, my parents never had a dryer. My hands still know the skills, I don't have to think about what I'm doing. Snap the clothes to whisk out the wrinkles, pin them up, like with like as much as possible. Big towels and long pants on the ends of the line, smaller things in the middle. My snapping needs a bit of help to get back to my old skill level! It will come, it will come.
Take the laundry in, enjoying the smell of the sunshine caught in the fibers. Like with like, clothes for each person neatly folded, then the next person, and so on. Bringing in a full basket of clean, putting a pile on each bed, putting mine (and my husband's) away. The satisfaction of a job well done.