Tuesday-Ironing Day

Tuesday

Ironing Day

8.5"x 11"

pencil

Back in my hometown, when I was growing up, Monday was wash day, all over town. I've written about that and shown a drawing of it, at my house, last week. Today I am showing the next day in the week, after all that washing was done.

Clothes were sprinkled with water, then rolled or folded over, ready to iron (without steam. We did have electric irons, though. Mama had a GE iron.). Things that didn't have to be ironed, like socks and underwear, were folded and put away.

Bertie was there to help Mama, some. Friends came over to play and we had a good time sitting in the pile of clean clothes on the kitchen floor, or crawing through cabinets, playing with the pots and pans, or just hiding. Mama didn't like for us to go in the cabinets, unless she cleared out all the cookware and let us play there. We must have dented a few pans.

I know that Mama was glad when the weather was good and we could play outside. But, sometimes, it was more fun to be in the house, where everyone else happened to be working. The grownups probably spent a lot of time shooing us out of places where we shouldn't be.

In my drawing, I've shown Bertie coming out of the dining room into the kitchen. Mama is at the wooden ironing board, ironing. I've shown three little girls playing in the clean clothes and the cabinets. The smaller one has to be my sister, the one in the cabinets must be my next door neighbor, Edie, and the one in the clothes was going to be me, but I think she looks more like another playmate, Tootsie. My pictures seem to have a life of their own. What I have in my mind is not always what comes out on the paper!

We had wooden cabinets in our small kitchen, with a built in dough board near the door. There were some shelves over the sink where Mama would put a plant, vases, and some souveneirs from trips, or wedding presents. She would put her rings on the bottom right shelf while she worked. The counter had small octagonal tiles in white, with some black trim. A glass bowl of water is shown on the counter. This is what was used to sprinkle the clothes once, then again when ironing if a wrinkle appeared or if the clothes dried before they were ironed. Some people had a sprinkler head that they placed in a Coke bottle. But a handful of water worked just as well. On the right side counter, there is the radio, where Mama would take it to listen to the soap operas after dinner. (That would be lunch, to some people.) Otherwise, the radio was kept on a small table between the living room and the dining room.

On the stove, there is a pot of homemade soup cooking, a coffee pot so Daddy could have a cup of coffee when he came in, and a smaller pan with some starch cooking, ready to use on things like shirts or pinafores. The broom is in the corner by the stove, along with a rack for a cup towel and a hook for a pot holder.

Ma, our part Blue Maltese cat, who had soooo many kittens over the years, is lounging on the linoleum floor. Her latest litter of kittens are in their favorite place, under the stove.

The window in the door is covered with dotted swiss curtains with a patterned trim. Mama was always sewing or making something to improve the house, and painting and wall papering went along with that. I remember the kitchen being yellow, light green, white, but always bright despite having only the door and window, and an overhead light to provide light.

In the space in front of the cat, there was a refrigerator with a cabinet over it. Inside the cabinet, there was the water heater. The door to the living room opened between the refrigerator and the cabinet where the little girl is peeking from.

I always wished for a fireplace, an attic that we could go into like in "Little Women", and a basement. But, our house was more of a two bedroom cottage. When it was first built, and Mama was showing the ladies around while they were there for an afternoon game of canasta, people were just delighted to see the "honeymoon cottage". I remember how impressed they were with the built in dough board. It wasn't long before we were crowded, and more modern homes were being built with so many neat things. And we longed for a bigger, more modern house. But Daddy wasn't about to move from the house that he had built and had paid for.

Today, my washing and ironing was done at the same time. Things are sorted, go in the washer, then the dryer. I hang things up right away, put things that need ironing on the ironing board. Things that are ready to hang are put away, while the ironing is sprinkled with a spray bottle. I kind of dawdle with that ironing as I put the ironing board where I can watch tv. Boy is it hard work, ironing all 4 of those shirts! Not really. It's nothing compared to the big load that my mother and Bertie did when I was young.

We learned to iron as children by doing the flat pieces, beginning with handkerchiefs and pillowcases. Some people liked to dry their handkerchiefs and scarves by flattening them out on the stove. That way, they didn't need much ironing. I still dry my scarves that way. Not on the stove, but on the shower handles. Thank goodness for tissues, so we don't have handkerchiefs to wash and iron like we once used.

As I iron today, I think, first, why didn't we buy wash and wear instead of looking for just 100 percent cotton! And, then, I think that it is nice to be able to iron shirts for someone again, after many years. And it's nice, having the time to do those little things.

And I remember how the clean clothes smelled after being washed outside and dried in the sun, and the smell of food cooking in the kitchen, the sound of the iron sizzling as Mama ironed, the odor of Berties dip of snuff, and the noises of little girls playing in our kitchen on ironing day.

Hope that, if you are ironing today, that it goes smoothly.

Look on the links on my sidebar and enjoy some of those sites. I enjoyed reading about Mary Marshall's participation in an art show over the weekend. And Esther Read had a story published in the "Corpus Christi Caller Times" about her mother. Virginia Vaughan has a lovely painting today of an old well on the farm that she is leaving, and a nice story about that place.

The Art Step in downtown Bryan was quite an event. They have a First Friday event each month there, so, if you missed this one Saturday, you have other chances to go. I sent two paintings to the auction Saturday. One was an acrylic on 16"x 20" canvas of the Art Deco series, "Deco Street", in black, white, and silver. I put it in a dark, plain wood frame and it looked really elegant. The other was of the watercolor farmhouse that I have shown you previously, and I put that in a barnwood frame with a gray mat. That one looks nice too. Goes really well with my stone fireplace! I thought I might have better luck with something smaller, but I guess that either they were not small enough, or the right person didn't see them. I still have them, in case you are interested.

My photos didn't come out very well. I'm not having much luck with the digital camera. There is a lot of yellow or orange on one side of my Deco Street painting from a lamp in the room, I guess. The frame doesn't show at all. In the farm house painting, the colors are distorted, and the whole picture is blurred. But, I'm going to put them on here anyway, so you can see what I sent to the auction.

Rainy Sunday Afternoon

Rainy Sunday Afternoon 8.5" x 11" Pencil

Wouldn't you just know that it would rain.

After church one Sunday, we rode out across the Brazos River into Milam county, where Kathryn's family lived. I looked forward to playing and trying to forget about the dreaded homework that always seemed to remain undone until just before bedtime Sunday night. But, I spent the weekend worrying about it, and dreading having to do whatever the assignment might be. I tried to put it out of mind and have a pleasant time, with friends or alone.
Kathryn had chores on the farm, but she also had a lot of things to do-a horse to ride, animals to care for and watch, land to roam around on, and a big gully that ran to the Brazos River, that was like exploring the Grand Canyon, to little kids. Electricity out in the country was fairly new, and there was still an outhouse, until a new bathroom was added off the kitchen. They had radio, but there were few good programs on Sunday afternoon,at least, nothing that kids would enjoy. We didn't have tv in the area yet.
We looked forward to an afternoon of walking, climbing, exploring, discovering while Kathryn's dad read the paper and her mother finished up in the kitchen after Sunday dinner.
But, then, it poured. Rain slid down the kitchen windows as two little girls sighed and sulked, and felt there was nothing to do. Mud puddles formed in the yard. It was one of those old fashioned days of rain that I remember. No lightning, no thunder, no threatening storms. Just a nice, steady rain that lasted all afternoon. We would have gone out to play in the rain, except for the mud.
On one rainy day, we did go outside to feed chickens or some chore, probably had a trip to the outhouse, too. Of course, I came in all muddy after falling, and had to change clothes. Since I didn't have extra clothes, I had to wear some of Kathryn's, while mine went into a paper bag to go home to the wash.
But, now, we were a little older and splashing in the mud was not so attractive. So, we whined and fumed.
After the dishes were done, Kathryn's mother, Anna, just smiled and said she would make us a treat. We watched as she pulled out a bowl, pan, platter, butter, cocoa, sugar, vanilla extract, and all the makings for fudge. We anxiously watched as she stirred and added ingrediants. Kathryn buttered the platter while I stood beside the stove and watched Kathryn's mother, waiting for a sweet treat.
If I had been at home, our family would have finished up Sunday dinner, then my sister and I would read the funny papers and a catalogue. The kids might have gone to a Sunday afternoon movie at the Eloia, with a treat at Taliaferro's drugstore, or the whole family, sometimes in two or three cars, would have gone for a ride until supper time, and time for bed. (Somehow, that homework often did not get done until I got to school on Monday! Or not at all.)
But, today, we would get to munch on rich, sweet fudge, and I wondered if Kathryn's mother made fudge that tasted like my mother's fudge. I wasn't crazy about fudge. I would rather have a Hershey bar or chocolate ice cream. But, fudge would do. (You would never know that sugar was rationed! )
Finally, the mixture was ready to pour into the platter, and we got spoons to clean out what was left in the pan, as the fudge hardened. Well, we cleaned the pan, dishes were washed and put away, and the fudge was still runny in the platter. It was too far to drive into town and get more ingrediants, and the weather was too bad. We all kept testing the fudge and it seemed to get just a little soft, but still was very runny.
Kathryn's mother talked to us about what might be wrong that the fudge just wouldn't get ready, and our mouths were almost watering, waiting for the treat. She told us that you shouldn't make divinity in certain kinds of weather due to the problem of it never getting hard if the weather was too damp. But she had never had that problem with fudge.
We were beginning to feel like having a snack was a lost cause.
Kathryn's mother laughed with her rich, wonderful laugh, and reached into the cabinet, pulled out a box of crackers, and told Kathryn to get a couple of knives from the silver drawer. We stood at the counter, watching the rain through the window over the sink, spreading fudge on crackers, and munching away. I was not so sure that would work, but found it to be really delicious! We ate until the platter was clean, the rain stopped, and it was time to take me home.
I don't think that my mother was very happy when I told her that I wanted her to make fudge like Kathryn's mother, to be eaten with a spoon and crackers!
Later, in college, my friends and I would go to the movies and get popcorn and a chocolate candy bar to eat during the movie. That reminded me of rainy day fudge!
In my drawing, Kathryn is by the table with her blonde hair in braids that she wore coiled over her ears. Blue jeans, with rolled up cuffs were the style. Girls wore jeans for girls with zippers on the side. While I started with pigtails, and ribbons, my hair had a mind of its own. The ribbons were soon hanging and the braids were loose. We tried to dress alike and would call each other on the phone to see what each one in the class or group was wearing the next day. We weren't allowed to wear pants to school, other than our band uniforms or shorts for P.E. and sports.
My drawings seem to take on a life of their own as I work, with parts just seeming to appear-sometimes things I thought I didn't remember at all show up in my picture.
There is a technique called "mapping", in which you can start with a large piece of paper and a marker, pencil, pen, or whatever is comfortable, but fairly large. Start by thinking of a place, such as a house, then try to draw a floorplan of the house, or focus on a room. As you work, you will start to remember all kinds of details and stories that are hidden deep in your memory. It's amazing how things like vases, doorways, knick knacks, people, and stories will start to come out as you draw. You can go on to map out the whole house, grounds, etc, or stop and write or draw about the one thing that you want to focus on.