Yes, even in winter when the sun decides to shine,
I love to hang my laundry outside on the line.
Swaying in the gentle breeze, warmed by the sun,
It will dry quite nicely, while my inside work is done.
I'm reminded of my mother and of the many times
She also hung her washing, outside on the lines.
In early years with a washboard and a galvanized tub,
In my mind I see her as she gave the clothes a scrub.
A bottle of clothes blue, a few drops for the white,
Made all the garments turn out clean fresh and bright.
With a bar of Sunlight soap, a box of Rinso suds,
She made our dirty clothes look like brand new duds.
It's just a simple memory, but it still brings a tear,
As she went out to the meadow all times of the year.
With baskets piled high, all colours sorted right,
Then "hotten" the iron on the wood stove, until late at night.
I still see her darning the holes in many a sock or mitt,
Where in the world did she ever find the time to sit and knit.
On a day her work was done early and finished for the day,
She would sit with her accordion, and oh the tunes she'd play.
I know many mothers did the same, it wasn't only mine,
But this memory came to me as I hung my laundry on the line.


Submitted by: Tish Trowbridge