WASH DAY

Washing day loomed like a dark cloud over any 19th century household. This mother and her hired maid are working together in the dripping afternoon sunlit garden among the lush late June hollyhocks.

Apparently the servant’s son has managed to get so dirty during his cheerful outdoor playing that his mom has plopped him in the tub, pants and all, and is going to give him a bit of a scrubbing also.

This painting hangs currently in my laundry room. It always makes me feel grateful for the miracle that is modern life. When I spend a relative few minutes on washing clothes, our ancestors spent at least a day every week. A nickname for a nice clean and washed shirt was a “boiled shirt,” referring of course to the hot cauldron step of the long washing process.

The child who posed for this painting was a great sport. We took the pictures early in the morning (when the light is nice and diffused.) He was asleep in his mother’s car until we woke him up, took his shirt off, and pored five buckets of water over him. He truly sacrificed his comfort for art.

The idea of these women working together reminds me of the balance that this life requires of us. After all, “Before Enlightenment we chop wood and carry water, after Enlightenment we chop wood and carry water.