“I continued to pull down and fold bedsheets, napkins, pillowcases, tablecloths, shirts, chemises, aprons, handkerchiefs, collars, caps. They had been hung carelessly, bunched in places so that patches of cloth were still damp. And they had not been shaken first, so there were creases everywhere.

“From me she learned to sprinkle clothes with water to bleach them in the sun. . . “
Girl With A Pearl Earring by Tracy Chevalier

When I was in France I was obliged to hang out our clothes, and after some time became accustomed once again to using an outdoor dryer. When I told Captain O that I would use one when I got back to Texas, he warned me that there may be a bylaw instituted by our neighbourhood association against errecting one. Obviously I didn’t listen because I went ahead and bought one.

Here’s a picture of the outdoor dryer I got from off the internet—an aluminium two-piece pole umbrella clothes dryer. It is lightweight and uses little space while getting upto 165 feet of drying space. Not as sturdy as the line I used back in Australia but I like that it can be put away after use.

A couple reasons why I like using an outdoor dryer:

1. It cuts down on the power bill. Already we have the problem of an overused airconditioner during summer so finding ways to use less electricity has been high on our priority list.

2. It cuts down on greenhouse gases, however small I think this contribution will make.

3. The sun makes for the best natural bleacher which can account for less chemicals used in the home.

4. I like the the fresh smell of clothes after they’ve been hung out.

5. Seeing clothes hung out also gives me a homely feeling and sense of lived in space that I find inviting.

I told my son that if he continued to look like this everytime I took his photo that I would have no choice but to put it on my blog—obviously he was very pleased to show his finest side!

In the Maori culture mokos were once tatooed onto faces of adults. Men had full face tatoos—and the greater the man was, the more there was to be seen. Women had mokos tatooed onto their lips and chin only. As we had no written language then, the mokos acted as a person’s signature or tribal identity. In this self-portrait I attempted to draw a moko—obviously mine doesn’t really say or mean anything other than that I need to take drawing lessons.

On July 4th, two hundred and thirty years ago America claimed independence from Britain and became a spanking new country.

And so it is that every 4th of July our wonderful most excellent Neighbourhood Association hosts its Annual July 4th Parade and Picnic for its residents. For a couple days before and after the occassion they even line the streets with miniature flags and paint the fire hydrants blue, red and white.

And as this was our first year to actually attend the Parade and Picnic, we stood on the main road of our neighbourhood nine o’clock sharp waving flags at the motorized parade and best period dressed pedestrians; and in return for our sportsmanship, lots and lots of candy were thrown at us.

Then in the evening, like in most every other city and town in America, Austin hosted its annual 4th of July fireworks. We sat with hundreds of other spectators in the rain with our eyes glued to the skies hoping for a miracle that the rain would stop. But rain or shine, lightning and thunder, the fireworks went on in true Texas cowboy fashion. And the best part as always was at the end when hundreds and thousands of voices could be heard roaring in unison as the lighted sky came to a blasting end. But even before the fireworks even began, my camera battery died on me—I don’t have a single pic to share so you’ll have to use your imagination.