be there, Minnie,” she murmured. Hoping for the sight of the girl’s plain, freckled face peering over a heaping basket of laundry, Rachel quickened her step. Minnie, who was a favorite relative of Ada’s and, therefore, impossible to dismiss, worked exceedingly slow and had to be reminded of how to use the appliances. But she was usually dependable. Without her, Rachel would be lucky if she got everything done today.
At three, Rachel was on her knees in the stone-floored laundry room when Mary Aaron walked in. She’d heaved the dryer away from the wall and collected a pile of lint from the vent hose that she intended to scatter in the garden. Birds and squirrels would collect it for nesting materials.
“Here you are,” Mary Aaron said cheerily. “I saw Ada hanging sheets in the backyard. She said you might still be in here.” She studied Rachel, behind the dryer. “What are you doing?”
“The vent hose was clogged. I think that’s why it was taking so long to dry stuff.” Rachel made a final sweep with the brush she had been using, laid it on the floor, and began clamping the hose back on to the dryer. Her cousin leaned on the dryer and watched as Rachel tightened the screw on the clamp. Then Rachel reconnected the other end of the hose to the wall. “There. Now, if you’ll help me push the dryer back.”
Together they slid the heavy appliance into position.
“I don’t know how you do all these things,” Mary Aaron remarked. “With the tools. You know, if you had a husband, he could do it for you.”
Rachel ignored her cousin. Next, Mary Aaron would be telling her how handy Evan was and how any woman would be lucky to have him. In her midthirties, Rachel was all too aware that, by Amish standards, she was an old maid. It was rare for an Amish woman not to marry, and her family reminded her of that often. “I don’t mind these kinds of chores. In fact, I kind of like them,” she said, gathering her tools.
Mary Aaron looked unconvinced. “ Dat does all that at our house,” she replied, slipping into Deitsch. “Or one of the boys. Mam wouldn’t know what to do with a screwdriver. It’s man’s work, she says.”
Rachel shrugged. “It’s easier than scrubbing floors.”
“But washing and scrubbing, hanging clothes, and cooking, those are women’s jobs. Chores of the house. Husbands and sons should do the heavy moving and fixing. I’m glad I was not born English. Worldly women are not so fortunate, I think, to have to do women’s work and men’s work as well.”
“Male or female, cleaning out the vent hose is one of those things you have to do when you have a dryer, especially one used as much as this one.” She used the English word for dryer. Translating clothes dryer into Pennsylvania Deitsch was a mouthful. “Besides taking longer to dry the laundry, if the hose is clogged, a buildup of lint could cause a fire.”
“I don’t understand why you need one of these things. You’ve got the expense of buying the contraption, and then you have to pay for the electricity to run it. Better you hang the clothes outside for the sun and wind to dry them, ya? ”
“I’ve hung my share of clothes outside when it’s so cold they freeze like boards, and I’ve helped Mam try and dry laundry for a big family in the cellar when it’s raining outside. I like my electric dryer, thank you very much.”
Mary Aaron regarded the appliance suspiciously. “Don’t you worry in the night that it will burst into flames, maybe burn the house down around you?”
“No more than I worry about lightning strikes.” Rachel returned the tools to her red toolbox. “They cause fires, too.”
“ Ya, they can do that. The Peacheys’ barn burned last summer. Remember? They barely got their horses out.”
“I remember.”
The entire valley had gathered to build a new barn for the family. It was one of the things Rachel treasured about her Plain heritage. Amish might not believe in insurance, but they
At three, Rachel was on her knees in the stone-floored laundry room when Mary Aaron walked in. She’d heaved the dryer away from the wall and collected a pile of lint from the vent hose that she intended to scatter in the garden. Birds and squirrels would collect it for nesting materials.
“Here you are,” Mary Aaron said cheerily. “I saw Ada hanging sheets in the backyard. She said you might still be in here.” She studied Rachel, behind the dryer. “What are you doing?”
“The vent hose was clogged. I think that’s why it was taking so long to dry stuff.” Rachel made a final sweep with the brush she had been using, laid it on the floor, and began clamping the hose back on to the dryer. Her cousin leaned on the dryer and watched as Rachel tightened the screw on the clamp. Then Rachel reconnected the other end of the hose to the wall. “There. Now, if you’ll help me push the dryer back.”
Together they slid the heavy appliance into position.
“I don’t know how you do all these things,” Mary Aaron remarked. “With the tools. You know, if you had a husband, he could do it for you.”
Rachel ignored her cousin. Next, Mary Aaron would be telling her how handy Evan was and how any woman would be lucky to have him. In her midthirties, Rachel was all too aware that, by Amish standards, she was an old maid. It was rare for an Amish woman not to marry, and her family reminded her of that often. “I don’t mind these kinds of chores. In fact, I kind of like them,” she said, gathering her tools.
Mary Aaron looked unconvinced. “ Dat does all that at our house,” she replied, slipping into Deitsch. “Or one of the boys. Mam wouldn’t know what to do with a screwdriver. It’s man’s work, she says.”
Rachel shrugged. “It’s easier than scrubbing floors.”
“But washing and scrubbing, hanging clothes, and cooking, those are women’s jobs. Chores of the house. Husbands and sons should do the heavy moving and fixing. I’m glad I was not born English. Worldly women are not so fortunate, I think, to have to do women’s work and men’s work as well.”
“Male or female, cleaning out the vent hose is one of those things you have to do when you have a dryer, especially one used as much as this one.” She used the English word for dryer. Translating clothes dryer into Pennsylvania Deitsch was a mouthful. “Besides taking longer to dry the laundry, if the hose is clogged, a buildup of lint could cause a fire.”
“I don’t understand why you need one of these things. You’ve got the expense of buying the contraption, and then you have to pay for the electricity to run it. Better you hang the clothes outside for the sun and wind to dry them, ya? ”
“I’ve hung my share of clothes outside when it’s so cold they freeze like boards, and I’ve helped Mam try and dry laundry for a big family in the cellar when it’s raining outside. I like my electric dryer, thank you very much.”
Mary Aaron regarded the appliance suspiciously. “Don’t you worry in the night that it will burst into flames, maybe burn the house down around you?”
“No more than I worry about lightning strikes.” Rachel returned the tools to her red toolbox. “They cause fires, too.”
“ Ya, they can do that. The Peacheys’ barn burned last summer. Remember? They barely got their horses out.”
“I remember.”
The entire valley had gathered to build a new barn for the family. It was one of the things Rachel treasured about her Plain heritage. Amish might not believe in insurance, but they
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