The Art of Ironing

Do you have an iron in the house? Do you use it?

Ironing is becoming a lost art. With all the modern fabrics, most garments no longer need pressed if they are washed and dried properly. I've also noticed that standards have changed and it is not always improper to wear something wrinkled! Oh dear!

I have many wonderful memories which involved ironing. I can remember a toy iron that really worked when plugged into a wall. It would become slightly warm and my sister and I would iron doll clothes and hankies on a toy ironing board. Such a toy would be considered a danger to a child these days, after all, it required the ability to plug something into an outlet! But, we used it safely and it provided us with many moments of make-believe fun. As they say, play is a child's work. Some of my first memories of grown-up ironing when I was about ten or twelve years old. A family friend had a baby daughter who had the cutest of clothes! I remember ironing her little dresses "just for fun". As I grew older, ironing became the chore that allowed us to watch television. Being a productive family, it was expected that we be busy working on something if the television was on. I remember ironing many pillow cases and my dad's shirts while watching the Patty Duke Show, Gilligan's Island, The Beverly Hillbillies, or The Lucy Show. Do you remember them?

These days my iron is used for touching up garments when getting dressed up. A suit, skirt, or shirt sometimes needs a little crispness added. But, it's used most frequently for pressing fabrics when sewing a quilt or other sewing projects. Times change, but memories remain. Sometimes it is good when household objects become obsolete, as it signals an improvement and new technology. But, when such objects become obsolete, there is something that is left behind. My children do not have the pleasant memories of ironing that I did as a child. I believe that it's their loss.

For Everything There Is a Season

Late summer, early autumn is a beautiful time on the mountain. 

The late summer flowers bloom and those who's time has past have gone to seed. Even seed pods have a beauty all their own.

The dog days of summer are replaced by a chill in the air, making a campfire inviting and pleasant.

It's the time of year that sees a lot of action at the cabin!

That's because it is time to gather firewood and haul it home for the winter. For the men in the family, this is a time of interest and anticipation. I think it is their favorite sport.

My task is to find the dead trees that need cut down. It is kind of like a gigantic jig-saw puzzle. At first it seems that there are only three or four trees that are dead in the forest. But, after careful hiking and exploring to all the property's corners, an amazing assortment of dead trees are found and marked for cutting. For fun, I counted them this year and came up with sixty-five. Falling the trees and taking their limbs off is a task that befalls others in the family.

While they work, I'm happy to do my own thing. I call it "playing pioneer" and it is quite good for the heart and soul. 

The appetites of those who work hard must be satisfied!

Before long the log stack grows, eventually to a size approved by the woodsmen as "enough". Each log is then cut into sixteen-inch lengths. Then comes the task of stacking each one in the trailer.

Some are heavy, some are light. Some are large, some are small. But together they make up a warming stack of firewood for winter's use.

All in all, more than eight cords of firewood made it down the mountain, ready to heat in the winter months. There's nothing quite as nice as "mountain wood" in a firebox to keep a house cozy and warm.

Of course, after all that work, there was plenty of tea, a healthy reward for a job well done.

The Washing of Dishes

The washing of dishes does seem to me the most absurd and unsatisfactory business that I ever undertook.  If, when once washed, they would remain clean forever and ever (which they ought in all reason to do, considering how much trouble it is), there would be less occasion to grumble; but no sooner it is done, than it requires to be done again.  On the whole, I have come to the resolution not to use more than one dish at each meal.

Nathaniel Hawthorne - 1844
 [written while Mrs. Hawthorne was away!]