Laundry Day

K. tricked me into doing some of her laundry today. She had some sweaters and skirts that she was afraid to wash since they all had special care instructions.

Things like dry clean only tags.

Pooh. I don't pay attention to tags. I wash almost everything. Except my wool winter coat. I won't wash that.

But everything else is fair game. Most of the time it comes out just fine. Especially if you hang it to dry on a windy, blowy day.
I got it all hung out to dry in no time. Well, now that I think about it, I had to hang it twice.

I forgot to make sure the end of the line was pulled all the way away from the house. I ran out of clothesline with only two pieces of laundry left to hang.

I couldn't quite reach the line from the patio so I had to pull it all the way back, take it down, pull the end away from the house, and then re-hang it all.

That took a little time. No wonder our ancestors went to bed so early. They worked hard during the day.
But I'm so glad I had to do it twice.

Because the wind picked up and the clothes started to dance.

It was a soft dance at first, but then it picked up and things really started flying wildly.
Except for that black hand painted t-shirt from France.

That shirt wouldn't billow for anything. The French are known for being difficult.

I can say that because I'm part French.
I sat in the rocking chair with my camera, snapping picture after picture of blowing, billowing pieces of fabric.

I sat there for a half hour.

What a joy.

Thanks, God, for slowing me down to enjoy the moment.