Memory of Seasons Past - January

One day this past January, the sky was leaden and the fog rolled in, causing rime ice to form on any surface that would have it.  Old spider webs, door knobs, tree limbs, and the clothes pins still clinging to the line we use on the farm for drying our laundry on days that will allow it.

You could ask me why our clothespins were still on the line in January and my first reaction would be to be slightly defensive.  After all, we did just hang some laundry out to dry on this line on November 28 of this year.  Surely that's not so far away from January?

But along comes the freezing fog, covering each wooden clip in a mockery of our desire to use sun, warmth and breeze to finish the process of washing our clothing, our towels and our various sundries made of material that would benefit from a drying.  It's very presence reminds me that there are always things that I don't get done - like removing the clothespins from the line before the rime frost covers them.

I remember a neighbor from a home in years past that would bring out their cloth bag of clothespins and hang it on the line.  It was incredibly convenient for them to reach into the bag for pins that would hold the next piece of laundry in place.  And, I remember the day they came dashing out into the rain, all aflutter about the mostly dry laundry reverting to a very damp state.  But, mostly about their bag of wooden clothespins getting soaked.

If our clothespins could talk, they would probably wish they belonged to that person, so they could come inside for the winter - and not be covered with the evidence of a nice, cold day.