You say potato, and I say potato

 Clothespins? Clothespegs? Whatever you call them, I've had them on my mind of late. Outdoor drying weather is approaching (Alice is obviously a hardier specimen than I am, because she told me her washing was on the line today, but I'm clearly a fair weather pegger).

Up until last spring I was wedded to my tumble drier. I bought it when Mark was born and had fallen deeply for it's rotating charms. But Amy wooed me to the washing line last year and to my surprise, I loved it. The steady rhythm of bend, shake and peg. The smell of the outdoors on your sheets. The few quiet garden moments stolen in the middle of housework. And now, the chance to compose a haiku too.

Because Amy's blog also provided this idea. Some letter stamps, a heat set ink pad and my boring old pegs. Wash day joy. And face it, with boys like mine, every day is wash day round here.

Although some items will still need more gentle handling. The Klaralund  - she's all stitched up, worn in and ready for her first launder.