The ironing board is probably something close to antique or just simply not used like it use to be. My mom would starch just about everything but bathroom and kitchen towels. Yes, even my dad's boxers, t-shirts, all of our pajamas and the bedding. "Crisp" was my mom's word on how she liked her laundry to look and feel. Sometimes crisp to me was "scratchy". Mom always took pride in her white clothes hanging on the line..like a feather in her cap. When I was growing up the clothes were always hung out to dry or on a laundry rack when the weather did not warrant a good drying day. Laundry day was always on a Monday and ironing was always done on a Tuesday. When mom took the laundry down she sprinkled each piece with water from a bottle with a sprinkler top put on it. She rolled the piece, put it in a large plastic bag and put it in the freezer. It stayed there until Tuesday when she would iron. I can still hear the iron ssssssst when it touched the frozen clothes. CRISP Now laundry day can be any day or anytime with the washers and dryers of modern times. One thing I believe, clothes lasted much longer drying on the line outdoors than a dryer. They had to, back them our closets were not stuffed with clothes. There were special clothes for working on the farm, my dad's for the oil fields, mine for school and mom and dad had special clothes for weddings, funerals and doctor visits.
When I was 17 mom passed and the laundry became my duty. By then dad and I were use to crisp and even scratchy. Monday changed to Saturday since I was still in school and Sunday was the day to iron. It wasn't a bad chore and actually I rather enjoyed it. I still do although with all the types of material and having a dryer I got away from only ironing special cotton shirts and slacks.
Except.....the last few weeks.
When my thoughts are always on a situation out of my control which it has been for about a month I tend to shut down, set back and get a grip on what will give me peace of mind. Of course the first thing was clean the chicken coop. Yes, I love my chickens and Dick usually cleans it but at times he knows to stay out of my way, he can tell when I'm on a mission. I need to get this mind set back to what I love and what gives me the greatest peace and love of my life. WORK It tends to cleanse my being. So the chicken coop is clean, fresh shavings down and fresh hay in the laying boxes. All the hens need to do now is quit molting and lay eggs...4 a day, I want more girls!
My dryer died quite suddenly but hey, I can't remember how old it is. I do know we lived in Shinglehouse when we bought it. We have been in Clara 16 years so I'm sure it is well over 20. I never like to replace what is working and it has been fine until 2 weeks ago. We are looking but no decisions yet on what kind or where to get it. In the meantime I have been hanging all laundry outside. Although I don't starch before I hang them out I do starch as I iron. This morning it took me about 45 minutes when the word "crisp" came to mind, I am still smiling about it. I do, I understand what my mom felt and meant when she was so proud of our crisp clothes. Being retired I now have something to enjoy and pass the time away. I am ironing everything and loving it. I even bought concentrated starch to mix in a spray bottle. Am I crazy or what? Probably
The ironing board I use now was my mother-in-laws. When she passed it became mine which was a good thing because my mom's was wooden and had been repaired many times. Although Milly's is very old it still works perfect. I just made a new padded cover for it because the ones I have bought are not like the good ones from so long ago.
 |
| Ironing and sewing with my favorite view watching the back field, hill, horses and chickens. |
 |
| The last of mowing the lawn. |
 |
| 46 degrees but they look like snow clouds this time of year. |
Although we still have about 5 weeks give or take until it is officially winter now is the time we say goodbye to fall. Halloween and setting clocks back Saturday is like the Millport Fair (Potter County) is to summer, just feels like the end and time for the next season. Only the oak leaves and a few birch trees are holding on to their leaves. The hills are mostly barren, the fields brown and the summer birds are gone, winter birds are now visiting the feeder. Life goes on.
