A host of golden daffodils

The daffodils burst into bloom overnight. March 14, 2012. One of the earliest dates in my memory.

I cannot look at these beautiful blooms without recalling the poem my 8th grade teacher required we memorize. So in honor of Mrs. Clausen who did so much to plant poetry in my mind, and in joy at the early daffodil blooms, I share William Wordsworth's lovely poem, penned in 1804.

"I Wandered Lonely As A Cloud"

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced;
but they Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed--and gazed--but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

Doing laundry with a brick

This morning, I went to the laundry room and propped the brick back against the dryer 'on' button. It began to whir. This was at least the 5th time I'd propped the brick back in place for this single load.  I heaved a heavy sigh - laundry is SO difficult. 

Then, as I sat down with my cup of coffee and the morning paper, I realized it is Monday morning and I had the good sense to laugh at myself.

Monday was always laundry day on the farm. All the dirty clothes went down the laundry chute to the basement where Mom sorted everything into piles, pulled the washing machine and rinse tubs out from the wall, filled them with water and began the all-day task of doing the laundry.

In summer, she carried baskets of wet clothes outside and hung them on the clothesline. In winter, she hung each item from lines stung along the basement ceiling.

Laundry took much of the day and it wasn't light work. Yet, Mom had it easier than her mother who took in laundry to support herself and her daughters and used a hand-cranked washtub to do it.

Our dryer is temperamental. The only thing wrong with it is that the 'on' switch doesn't stay on, despite my husband's diligent efforts to fix it. We've devised the brick as an interim solution until the day when we both throw up our hands at the same time and agree it's time to replace the machine.

This Monday morning, as I prop the brick in place and think about laundry day 50 and 100 years ago, I believe I will try not to feel quite so put upon. Wishing you all a modern laundry day!

Tied to apron string memories

A friend gave me an apron for Christmas. It's a beauty - with ruffled layers of lime green, cherry red, and royal blue. It makes me happy to look at it, and I feel cheerful when I wear it. Which is on special occasions.

Aprons are not the staple of kitchen wear today that they once were. My mother wore an apron - most often to protect her Sunday dress from spatter as she fried the chicken we'd have when we came home from church. She didn't wear an apron everyday. Not like my grandmothers.

My grandmothers donned their aprons each morning as they dressed. They'd no more have gone to the kitchen without an apron then they would have stepped out without their shoes. They used their aprons for far more than protecting their clothes. Aprons were potholders, they were for drying hands and tears and wiping away sweat, they were slings for carrying apples and eggs and vegetables. Far easier to wash an apron than the dress it covered. On a visit to the Living History Farm in Des Moines, I learned that aprons were the first line of defense from sparks flying out of the wood cookstove.

Aprons figure prominently in the novel I'm writing about farm life in the early 1900s. Tying on an apron puts me in the mood and the mindset of that time. Wearing an apron, I feel more capable. In an apron, I join the ranks of farm women who went into the kitchen every day and worked the magic that brought meals to the table and contributed to the stability of farm living. Women in aprons got things done.

Do you have a favorite apron or apron memory? If you do, I'd like to hear about it.

Playing with paper dolls

Paper dolls. My sisters and I played with them when we were little. I don't remember who the characters were, but it was great fun to change the clothes over and over, imagining the dolls in different settings. Paper dolls. A great way to spend hours as a child.

Fast forward to today. One of my favorite shows this year is Downton Abbey.  This terrific Masterpiece Classic series on PBS has held me spellbound, fueling my passion of the moment for all things WWI.  Sadly, the season finale was on Sunday.

What would I do until season 3 airs? As it turns out, someone has answered the question. Play with paper dolls! The enterprising folks at Vulture have created paper dolls for the key Downton Abbey characters.

These paper dolls are a hoot. The Dowager Countess, for instance, includes six changeable faces to convey her different expressions. But they are all the same! Likely funny only to those who watch the series.

The idea of paper dolls is perfect. The timing is perfect.  A childhood pleasure meets an adult pleasure. I love it when the stars come into alignment!