Monthly ironing, easier to do it all at once all day than every little at a time. ‘Sides, more laundry, ironing all the curtains for fall cleaning. Windows, inside, outside, inside outside top and bottom, moving, reaching till all eight surfaces are washed of summer dust.
Cleaning up the garden rows as well, pulling up the vines that gave their last, the weeds that hid beneath their leaves from me all summer. Dill, cilantro gone to seed; another day or two and I’ll collect them for next year.
And all the while I work, the yellow dahlia faces smile down at me and laugh before the frost.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology