The Sacred Art of Laundry

I've been in a funk lately, as I'm sure I've told you before, but the spring winds whipping wildly through the plains has helped wake me up.

This weekend was wonderful.  The weather yesterday ended up at over eighty degrees.  In April.  In Iowa.  It was a surprise especially since snow was forecast within a few days.  But that's Iowan weather for you.  Changeable and mischievous.   The weather was so absolutely gorgeous yesterday, I used the clothesline in the yard for the first time this year. 

Going outside with a basket full of clothes doesn't sound like it would be a good way to commune with the gods, but for me, it was probably one of my most peaceful moments of the week.  The sun was shining, the grass was turning green, and the wind was teasing. 

I didn't say a prayer or direct my attention to anything, but I just held on to the thought that the sun was sacred and the earth was sacred and the wind was sacred.  Even now, thinking about it brings a smile to my lips.  The sacred art of laundry.  It's a peaceful, easy feeling, knowing that I can honor the gods in all aspects of my life.  In doing the dishes, in hanging out the laundry, I can feel a part of it all. 

Hail the gods.