The laundry joins the dishes

This is my new laundry airer. Actually, this is my laundry. The airer is what the laundry is hanging off, and you can't actually see it. This photo is angled up towards the living room ceiling. The airer is a pair of cast-iron end arms, four wooden dowels spanning the distance between them, a single and a double pulley to serve as anchors in the ceiling and a length of long braided rope that goes up from each end of the airer, through the pulleys, and down to a cleat on the wall. I got it installed during a week of pouring rain, which pleased me to no end. Outdoor line-drying was out of the question and I have maniacally been lowering, unloading, reloading and hoisting my airer all week. Our vaulted living room ceilings are very high, and all the warm air accumulates in the triangular space the ceiling encloses in front of the woodstove. In the winter time, this will keep all the wet winter clothes, all the mittens and boot liners and snowsuits and hats, up out of the way as they dry. When the airer is pulled up as far as it can go, you have to make an effort to look up to see the clothing at all.

So will I swear off the automatic clothes-dryer just as I've sworn off the dishwasher? I don't know. I will say that there is a lovely rhythm and routine to loading and unloading the clothes airer.

Today was violin recital day. Noah blew me away with his viola rendition of the Bach Gavottes from the end of Suzuki Book 3 (adapted from the Bach Orchestral Suite No. 3). Powerful tone, committment, musicality, confident posture and even some pretty nice trills. He really turned it on. Gosh, I was impressed. Sophie and Erin did fine too, but Noah's performance was the one that made my jaw drop. Now we are home and relaxing, our window sills filled with all the lupin-dominated wildflower arrangements we put together for the tables at the recital. I remember the smell of wild lupins from last year's post-recital evening.