She pulled the spout and the tub refilled before the water ran out, the
spout lifting up to refill. Every yank on the rusty chain brought just the
right amount of water pouring out of the cistern. She scrubbed again, the
water turning brown. A shove, and the basin tipped just so that the water
ran down, out of the washing-yard and into the furrows of the garden.

Hard work settled her nerves a little, and she pulled the spout again,
getting a clean fill of water. She rinsed the soap from the clothes,
kneading as she went. Another tip, and the clean water washed the last of
the suds into the pile of straw before the garden, and the muddy brown water
spilled into another furrow.

She admired the elegance of it all. Not that it entirely cut the work out,
but everything in the property fit together, everything in its place.
Washing waters the garden, garden feeds the farmers, the waste goes to the
neighbor's pigs, the pigs get traded for fruit come summer, and they
fertilize the orchard. Nothing left unused, and very little truly useless.

A bell rang with a clang. "Lunch and meeting in ten!" She looked up to see
Lauren standing at the door of the dining house, tall and thin as ever,
today dressed in an apron and brandishing a spoon, calling everyone in.

She hurried to hang her wash, the wet clothes making the line sag nearly to
the ground. She gave the old rope a heave as she went past, and re-tied it
to the post, a little lower, and the laundry hanging a little higher.

She trod up the hill, through the orcharf, instead of cutting through the
garden, since the lower path was still wet and muddy from the wash-water. A
worn bucket full of plums was sitting by the path, just out of the sun. She
picked it up as she went past. A voice called out from the tree nearest her.
"Leave that in the kitchen, please! I'm making cobbler tonight!" She looked
up and saw Len's crinkled, sun-drenched face, another pail hanging from a
rope he'd tied to his belt.

"Alright! Warm or cold?"

"Warm's fine, they won't go bad in just a day. Save the refrigerator for
things that need it."

---

The dining house was filled with smells. She decided that August was her
favorite month, even if it was almost impossible to get a good night's sleep
in the heat. Fruits and vegetables were stacked in boxes and buckets at the
entrance to the kitchen, and she thought she saw more stacked on the work
table inside. The counter was laden with a dozen kinds of food, and the
smells mingled