An Italian-American living la dolce vita in the Deep South

An Italian-American living la dolce vita in the Deep South

Saturday, October 15, 2011

The Sounds of Saturday

As I type this I am listening to sounds riding piggyback on the breeze coming through our open kitchen window. The drone of our neighbor's weed eater, the rasping of a rake, and the sputter of a lawn mower are some of the busy sounds I associate with Saturday morning. After a week in which houses are vacant for most of the day, these are the sounds of a neighborhood coming to life.

On Saturday, yards are played in, garages are tinkered in, and homes are lived in.

I always thought of Saturday as making its own kind of music, and in our family it always began in the kitchen with pots rattling and dishes clinking . . . noises which meant our mother was preparing a delicious home cooked breakfast. Apple pancakes sprinkled with cinnamon, waffles dripping with syrup, or homemade raisin bread with honey butter beckoned us to the kitchen, and it was a good way to wake up.

Of course, all that nourishment and comfort food were meant to prepare us for tackling our Saturday Morning Chores, so after breakfast the sounds of industry could be heard in the snapping sheets hanging on the line, the whirring vacuum cleaner, the whispering dust cloth, the swishing washing machine, and even the pounding hammer coming from my father's workbench.

Lunchtime marked the beginning of the second half of our Saturday, a long, glorious afternoon in which we were free to do whatever we wanted. It was a quiet time - peaceful - and even the sounds changed. The air conditioner humming, pages rustling in a book, and a football game droning in the background were softer noises which contrasted starkly with the sounds from earlier in the day. It was a time for napping, or cutting out paper dolls, or curling up with a good book.

Today, as I type this while sitting by an open kitchen window, I realize our Saturday routine hasn't changed very much. Right now Joe and Papa are working in the garage building two Adirondack chairs for our backyard, and I can hear drilling, hammering, and sawing. The older boys are cleaning their room and Timothy is picking up his legos. The sheets have been changed, the dryer has just buzzed, and as soon as I fold the clothes I'll start preparing lunch.

Which means Saturday afternoon is just around the corner . . . and I like the sound of that very, very much.


tiziana said...

Che bel racconto Maria, leggendolo è sembrato anche a me di sentire i suoni passati e futuri del tuo sabato.
Un abbraccio.

Ua said...

Awww, I remember those Saturdays! A flurry of work in the morning and then... free time!