Behold, my new clothesline.
Ah, thus will be the source of my new joy.
The rapturous thought of bringing my wet laundry down a flight of stairs and outside to hang on the line.
If Keats were alive today he'd write an ode to the clothesline, I'm sure of it.
Such simple things can be so inspiring.
DH and SN2 were joyful last night over Barcelona beating Man U and winning the Champions League.
See, same feeling of joy, different inspiration.
We're a simple family, with simple needs.
2 comments:
Yeah - but Keats would have had someone to do the ironing after pulling those clothes off the clothesline.
: )
I love the smell and feel of freshly dried and ironed clothes. Sigh.
Last year, we put up a clothesline. The kind like an umbrella on a pole, right? And the dog just could not help himself -- if he was out there when the stuff was on the line, he would jump up and chew on it. I lost my favorite pair of pants that way, and the only bathing suit I would wear in public. One day, it all ended when he pulled a quilt down -- between the dog pulling and the weight of the quilt, he literally bent the pole in half. The clothesline went away. I will live vicariously through you this summer. One of my favorite memories of my grandmother is running through her backyard when the sheets were drying in the breeze. Sigh.
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