Oh, the memories: "Ellen, come get the wash and hang it on the line." One of my childhood traditions, I remember it as I gaze at my special clothes line by my fence line. When I built my home, my ranching neighbors welded some poles together and with a bale of wire, presented me with a clothes line (which I painted turquoise). Yes, they also dug the holes and put it in concrete! It's a bit rusty now, but I smile as I remember carrying my laundry out to dry.
I look forward to hanging on the clothesline- it’s a pause and a chance to see the birds in the trees and the cars rolling by- a peaceful organization of the morning- though often a frantic race to pull things in before an afternoon shower! And though clothes may be a bit stiff they smell so much better!!!
Oh, the memories you've brought back to me. I remember well the clothesline in our back yard when I was growing up in Lubbock (yes, a less affluent neighborhood, so everyone had them) - this would be the early 1950s - stretching along the side fence, the street right there, since ours was the end lot on the block. And over there, across the street, the junior high school I so longed to grow into. The sheets billowing like sails in the wind. Not much worry about rain most days, out their in the arid high plains, but the sandstorms! And I also remember (or think I remember) the agitator washing machine, with a ringer at the top, that mother did the washing in - outside, of course. No room for it in the house. Even when coin laundries came in, mother would often bring the wet laundry home to dry on the line. Later on, she started sending it out, since she worked a full-time job. The laundry man would come in the unlocked back door, even when no one was home, to collect and deliver. The back door had to be unlocked, of course, because the milk man had to come in too. And the “housekeeper,” the once a week she came to clean. Many years later, after I'd gone away to college, the clothesline came down, and in its place, she planted a vegetable garden - which grew quite well. Wonder if the drippings from all those decades of home washed and dried laundry gave added fertility to the soil it dripped on? I hope you don't mind the theft, but I think you've lit the flame that will be turning into a Substack piece of my own. I'll give you credit for the inspiration.
I have long clotheslines across the back yard and I dry everything on them several times a week There is nothing better than crisp 100% cotton sheets and pillowcases dried outside. And the smell is as good or better than the crispness of the sheets. My jeans don't shrink either.
One of the first things my wife asked me to install was a clothesline. This was in 1996.
My grandmother said, "If there's a patch of blue (in the sky), you can hang out the laundry."
Oh, the memories: "Ellen, come get the wash and hang it on the line." One of my childhood traditions, I remember it as I gaze at my special clothes line by my fence line. When I built my home, my ranching neighbors welded some poles together and with a bale of wire, presented me with a clothes line (which I painted turquoise). Yes, they also dug the holes and put it in concrete! It's a bit rusty now, but I smile as I remember carrying my laundry out to dry.
I look forward to hanging on the clothesline- it’s a pause and a chance to see the birds in the trees and the cars rolling by- a peaceful organization of the morning- though often a frantic race to pull things in before an afternoon shower! And though clothes may be a bit stiff they smell so much better!!!
Yes! At my aubuelita’s when I was a kid and again traveling abroad as an adult. Lovely memories, all.
Oh, the memories you've brought back to me. I remember well the clothesline in our back yard when I was growing up in Lubbock (yes, a less affluent neighborhood, so everyone had them) - this would be the early 1950s - stretching along the side fence, the street right there, since ours was the end lot on the block. And over there, across the street, the junior high school I so longed to grow into. The sheets billowing like sails in the wind. Not much worry about rain most days, out their in the arid high plains, but the sandstorms! And I also remember (or think I remember) the agitator washing machine, with a ringer at the top, that mother did the washing in - outside, of course. No room for it in the house. Even when coin laundries came in, mother would often bring the wet laundry home to dry on the line. Later on, she started sending it out, since she worked a full-time job. The laundry man would come in the unlocked back door, even when no one was home, to collect and deliver. The back door had to be unlocked, of course, because the milk man had to come in too. And the “housekeeper,” the once a week she came to clean. Many years later, after I'd gone away to college, the clothesline came down, and in its place, she planted a vegetable garden - which grew quite well. Wonder if the drippings from all those decades of home washed and dried laundry gave added fertility to the soil it dripped on? I hope you don't mind the theft, but I think you've lit the flame that will be turning into a Substack piece of my own. I'll give you credit for the inspiration.
I love it! Steal away!
I have long clotheslines across the back yard and I dry everything on them several times a week There is nothing better than crisp 100% cotton sheets and pillowcases dried outside. And the smell is as good or better than the crispness of the sheets. My jeans don't shrink either.
So good!
These are so fun!❤️