Wash Day

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Dark clouds were crouching on the horizon. They had been gathering all day and I was in a hurry to get the sheets off the line before the rain.  (There are some things I will not give up and one of them is hanging the sheets to dry, much to my neighbor’s chagrin).  It had been beastly hot all day and the air was oppressive to breathe. As I stepped outside and crossed the yard, they suddenly began flapping and waving furiously. I grabbed at them and began to remove the pins but a howling wind ripped them from my hands. Dust and debris began to swirl around me and suddenly I was lifted off my feet. I was more amused at this than frightened as I was accompanied by my laundry basket, the neighbor’s rooster and my cat. The rooster and the cat appeared calm, enjoying this chance at a fluff and buff to rid their bodies of unwanted detritus. I myself could use a fluff and buff and released my pony tail to take advantage of the fingers of air that now we’re roaming through my hair. All the while I could hear a strange music, rather like a fiddle being played at rapid speed. The tune sounded very familiar. Looking up I spied the farmer who owned the rooster sitting in his porch chair fiddling away.
What’s that tune you’re playing? I called up to him as we spun merrily around.
It’s The Swallowtail Jig!
My, that’s such a lively tune I want to dance.
Go ahead he called to me.
Here?
Why not? We’re not going anywhere as far as I can tell. The weather vane off my barn just passed me and it pointed northeast - if we continue we’ll circle around eventually, so we might as well enjoy ourselves, he said as he continued to play.
I tried to tap my toe but there wasn’t anything solid to tap on. The rooster and the cat passed by again. This time the rooster was sitting on top of the cat that seemed to be enjoying a back scratch. I looked down and saw my sheets sailing along below me.
Sort of a tumble dry, I thought. Good grief I think I’m losing my mind! How can this be happening?
Just then the wind began to subside and the farmer, his fiddle, the cat, the rooster and my sheets settled gently to the ground. We stared at each other and I asked him if he could play the jig again. Now that I had firm footing I could really kick my feet up. The rooster crowed as if in agreement and the cat sprang into the basket to watch. I looked up through the remnants of the tornado and watched as it dissolved into fragile, feathery fingers that slipped out into the most beautiful blue sky. The farmer struck up the jig and we laughed and I danced a few steps under the clothes line.
Whatever are you doing? My husband called to me from the porch door.
His voice broke the spell.
Just enjoying this breezy day, I called back, sure that if I looked behind me there would be no farmer, no fiddle, no rooster and no cat.
Instead I would see my basket of sheets waiting for me. 

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