Maritime Prayer Flags

It is a relief not to be in a hurry – not needing to get to the next place. Bob still sleeps. It is after 9 a.m. Atlantic Time. At the speed that we have lost hours, it is not surprising that our internal clock is not in sync with the local time… not jet lag exactly, but still it takes its toll.

As we drove through farmlands yesterday, I wondered if Wednesday was “washday,” for everywhere I looked I saw the family wash hanging out to dry on clotheslines. Clotheslines – those lines that reach out from houses, or stretch between trees and support posts, where diapers and towels, dresses and dungarees, nightgowns and toddler’s rompers, boxer shorts and panties, all flutter in the Maritime breeze like Tibetan prayer flags. In some ways I see them as exactly that. Sun and wind costs nothing; and oh the fresh, sweet smell of clothes dried outside. .....P. L. Morningstar