I posted a photo of my laundry in August and shared a snippet of the inspiration behind it. Truth be told, it isn't the first time I have taken a picture of my washing and ironing. There are simply extraordinary moments in my ordinary days that capture my imagination. Sometimes it is the way the light falls in shadows across my floor, or the movement of leaves on the trees outside my window. Other times it is the pattern on the carpet I am vacuuming, or the color of the pine nuts I am toasting on the stove. Those moments stop me in my tracks, build into an ache of words. It is why I loathe busy. Busy bustles past me in a blur of necessity and those extraordinary moments get trampled on.
Often, when words elude me, I snap a photo in a crippled attempt to hold on to something as insubstantial as smoke.
All this to explain why I am posting another photo of my laundry. Perhaps it isn't as significant as a painting by Van Gogh, but it reminds me of one.
And truly, I reiterate...nothing's small!
No lily-muffled hum of a summer bee,
But finds some coupling with the spinning stars;
No pebble at your foot, but proves a sphere;
No chaffinch, but implies the cherubim:
And, glancing on my own thin, veined wrist,
In such a little tremour of the blood
The whole strong clamour of a vehement soul
Doth utter itself distinct. Earth's crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God:
But only he who sees, takes off his shoes,
The rest sit round it, and pluck blackberries
~ from Aurora by Elizabeth Barrett Browning ~