Willow Manor is once again quiet after the whirlwind holiday weekend. As I go about setting things in order, it seems extra still, after three happy days of raucous laughter and general craziness. I told someone recently that I am orderly, but not compulsive. This faithful Goodwill shopper, as you can imagine, has her fair share of gathered objects, which logistically is a dusting nightmare, but a magpie will have it no other way. There is a certain comfort about having my things about me in my nest, like Mary Kate Danaher in The Quiet Man.
I don't know about you, but the way I keep house is often a result of how I deal with outside pressures. There is something about putting order to my belongings, which lends a feeling of control. Years ago, when the manor bubbled with a wild mix of dogs, cats and children, I often found great satisfaction in ironing huge baskets of rumpled clothing. Funny, now that the manor, apart from my personal magpie nest, is an empty one, the ironing board is rarely pulled down from the built-in cabinet at the far end of the kitchen.
Today I put away dishes and wash linens, ponder the joy in stacks of freshly folded white towels, and miss the laughter of my gathered family.
When I cannot bear outer pressures anymore, I begin to put order in my belongings...
as if unable to organize and control my life,
I seek to exert this on the world of objects.
Anais Nin, The Diary of Anais Nin
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| wisteria on the patio gate, Willow Manor, May 31, 2011 (click to embiggen) top photo: kitchen cabinet shelf, Willow Manor |
