It began sipping coffee in bed.
The last two sentences of my morning journal are “This is a beautiful day. Let’s see what I can do with it.”
While sipping coffee and writing in my journal I noticed the branches of the blackberry bushes bouncing up and down more vigorously than possible in the gentle breeze that blew through my open window. Upon closer scrutiny I saw small birds darting back and forth between the clothesline and the blackberry bushes. I wrote the last two lines and began my day, anxious to join in the fun and feasting. Between hanging pillowcases and sheets I filled my mouth with juicy, sweet blackberries, darting back and forth like the little birds.
As the third and fourth loads of laundry sloshed about in the washer, I set up my chair and indulged in capturing the shadow patterns created by the linens on the clothesline. I have a passion for hanging out the wash. As a young child I watched my mother hang wash, a smile on her face, her hair and skirt blowing in the breeze. More often than not she would be whistling a tune. I’ve never know anyone who could whistle as beautifully as my mother.
My plan was to be totally at peace with whatever I did throughout the day and not allow myself to fall into the habit of thinking I should be doing something, anything other than what I was doing at any given moment.
Finally, after six weeks, my new, bionic body kicked in and my energy level soared. The drawing session was followed by mowing the lawn, weedwacking the yard (including the Secret Garden that has become a jungle), weeding the circular garden at the end of the driveway, sweeping the walks, watering and feeding the zinnias, lavender and Nispero (Eriobotria japonica).
All the while my brain was weaving the many memories connected with clotheslines. Oddly enough, the photo below is connected with clotheslines and played a small part in a novel I began writing in the early 80’s. My sister-in-law saw the photo and thought it looked like something that would be on the cover of a fictitious alternative magazine named “Bizarre Horizons”. The suggestion stuck in my mind and became a reality in the novel.
As the sun rose it gifted me with shadow patterns and as the sun set it gave me more shadow patterns. All through the day cobwebs in my brain were cast aside and memories of recurring motifs throughout my life surfaced.