The Cloud Washerwoman The Cloud Washerwoman

In this fantasy, an energetic old woman complains that it always rains on wash day. At first, she thinks the answer is to fix the weather. However, her granddaughter has a better idea. Will it work?

8.8 9.2 Other Fantasy titles in Springboard 4: Sammy Stevens Sings Finbar and the Long Trek Springboard 4 Written by Ben Smith Illustrated by Sandra Cammell

TheCloudWasherwoman_COV_MEA_SI.i2-3 2-3 15/3/06 4:36:20 PM For inspection teachers' The Cloud Washerwoman ONLY

Contents

Chapter One...... 4 Chapter Two ...... 12 Chapter Three ...... 18 Chapter Four ...... 22 For inspection teachers'

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Chapter One Monday is washday

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Once upon a time there was a wrinkly old woman. She was so old and wrinkly most people thought she must be at least 101. Even though she was old and wrinkly, sheONLY was a healthy woman. She ran two marathons a year. She swam in the ocean every day – summer and winter, rain, hail, or shine. She went skiing on the highest mountains, and she rode a fast motorbike with handlebars like antlers. The old woman lived in the home she had always lived in. She did her own gardening. She did her own housework. She baked her own bread. And every Monday morning, come rain, hail, or shine, she stoked up the fire under her big shiny copper tub. When the water was heated, she did the week’s .

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Now the old woman had always fancied herself as a folk singer. When she was younger she had always gone to gigs when a folk singer was in town. She didn’t singONLY when she was out and about, but she always sang when she did the laundry. So on Monday mornings, as soon as the fire was set and the water was heating, she would let loose with a song.

Heat up the tub, heat up the tub. Rub, rub, and scrub. I’m a real humdinger Of a folksy, folk singer.

As she sang, the old woman sorted the laundry. She put all the whites in one pile. She put all the coloureds in another. Next, she carefully shredded a block of soap with a sharp knife. Then she sprinkled the flakes into the steamy hot water. If the old woman noticed a pesky on any of her whites, she scrubbed the garment on the . When the stain was gone, she put the garment into the copper tub. Then she took a copper paddle and pounded and stirred and pounded and stirred the washing. She did this for at least half an hour, dancing a jig as she worked.

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When the whites were washed to the old woman’s satisfaction, she used her copper paddle to lift the articles out. One by one, she fed them through the ONLY to squeeze the hot, steamy, soapy water out of them. And as she lifted each garment, she sang.

A wringle and a wrangle The whites go through the mangle. I’m a real humdinger Of a folksy, folk singer.

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