Sunday was lovely so despite the soggy weather and trail conditions I headed out from the house up to Gold Hill via 4WD and dirt roads. Being outside, pedaling my bike reminds me of who I am, the essential Carey. I was going to check out the condition of a particular DH trail once in Gold Hill, I was hoping I would be able to ride it. That's a lot of snow on them mountains for May.
However there was still a lot of snow on the trail, much more than in the picture above, as the trail dipped into the trees on a north facing slope, I would have been hiking and pushing most of the time. So I headed down to LH Canyon via a more traveled dirt road, practicing my patience.
I was pleased to find my backside trail open and ridable all the way back to the house from LH. There were a few wet spots here and there but not bad.
And there were plenty of these lovelies blooming a long the trail. It was a divine little adventure on a gorgeous day. When I got home there was laundry to fold, I do fold my laundry and put it away, I'm like that, gives my mind order and I enjoy the act of it, kinda like washing dishes, it's calming. When I fold towels in particular I think of my Mom.
She taught me when I was young to fold towels in thirds and to this day that is how I fold my towels, they stack nicely this way and are compact. But mostly it's something that reminds me and connects me to my Mom. I'm not sure who showed her how to do this, I think it may have been her Mother in Law when she was a young women. I don't remember my Mother's Mother folding her towels this way. I think it's lovely how these small domestic chores connect us with people and once they're gone become rituals of connection, they are no longer meaningless tasks. I can't fold a towel without thinking of my Mom and I wouldn't want it any other way. Do you do something that was shown to you by someone and now you think of them whenever you do it?
3 comments:
Oh yeah!..Solo Sunday rides are like goin' to church. The peace...the solace...the introspection and the freedom to just seek that magic moment of presence and bliss.
The towel folding thing blew my mind! I'm a guy and my mother taught me the same! To this day( many thousands of days!)...when I get to do it..I still remember that day. My wife cooks sooooo fine...sooooo much LOVE...and I gladly wash the dishes,calmly...lovingly washing as she lovingly prepares the food.
JJ says do what you love and the rest will follow....true and I believe and practice but many times the *choice* is not ours and LOVING what we do is........ enough.
Great post Carey
:-)
Thanks for this great entry, it brought a favorite ritual to mind..
My family always had somewhat rigid rules about chores, and this included the folding of laundry. As with everything else, socks had to be managed a certan way.. smoothed out straight then folded in half, followed by placing them in neat stacks.
One weekend while staying overnight at my Pap's house, I helped him fold his laundry. I was no less than awestruck when I saw that he was rolling up pairs of socks into balls. I thought this was the coolest, most defiant act of chore completion I had ever seen in my very OCD Italian family. It made my favorite person even more amazing in my eyes. Pap was such a rebel! And he made laundry fun! Who knew??
After returning home to my parents I took the next laundry-folding opportunity to ask my Mom if I could make sock balls out of my socks. She flatly refused the notion and I never brought it up again, but I also never forgot.
Years later, when I was on my own and getting comfortable with my own habits (it was actually a leap to carve out my own rituals after having most of my life to that point set in stone by others), I immediately picked up the habit of making sock balls with my clean laundry.
Without exception, I have thought of Pap every single time I roll up, and then put away, my socks over the last couple of decades. And sometimes, I open the drawer and throw the sock balls into it one by one from across the room, just for the fun of it. :)
Thank you both for sharing with me.
The sock story is great and there is love in simple, everyday tasks.
Post a Comment