“Memory is the diary that we all carry about with us”
We have clouds again, and it’s chillier than it has been, but today is perfectly still, not a branch is moving. The day will feel warmer. In the front garden, tulips have bloomed and more of them have budded but are still shut so tightly I can’t tell what colors they are. I thought the squirrels, those spawns of Satan, had eaten all the bulbs just after they were planted as I remember the holes in the garden where I suspected the tulip bulbs had been planted. I was happily surprised to see how many have survived. My lawn is high, time for mowing high.
I still have an iron. It was a house warming gift 34 years ago when I bought my house, and I actually used it. I’d wait until I had several blouses needing ironing then I’d set up the board in here and watch TV as I ironed. I used a spray bottle on the pesky wrinkles and spray starch on the linens. I have no idea the last time I used it, but its time is coming. For my August trip, I bought some new clothes which need touching up so I’m going to haul the board out of the cellar and fire up that iron. In Ghana, I didn’t do my laundry-I paid for it to be done. It was hand washed in a bucket then ironed. The iron was black metal, tall and had a v shape. Under its cover, the inside was empty so it could be filled with charcoal to produce the heat. I figured it was probably just like the ones pioneers used on all those petticoats. The charcoal iron worked as perfectly as my electric one did. It just took longer to get hot. I never wore anything wrinkled, even with hand wringing and a bucket.
I haven’t thought about that iron in years. I find it especially amazing when one memory leads to uncovering another long hidden in the nooks and crannies of what I call my memory drawers.Explore posts in the same categories: Musings comment below, or link to this permanent URL from your own site.