Three Sheets to the Wind

Last summer my dryer broke down. Not having any money to fix it, I strung some rope between my apple trees, bought a pack of spring loaded wooden clothes pins, and hung the wet pile of garments out to dry. From the first towel to the last sock, I was in domestic bliss.

Grandma's 10 foot blanket. What was that for?

What is it about hanging clothes that feels GOOD. It touches on some primitive instinct, similar to the first time I used a blow gun. I want to pound my chest, go hunting, scour my dirty clothes with rocks. I want to put on a paisley dress, tie a pink bandanna in my hair and swing around dancing whilst clipping my undies to the line. I want to sing songs I don't know, whistle loudly, have a picnic. It just sends me.

"Look Daddy, there's Mommy!" I shouted to my father, as we circled above our house in a small airplane. Mom was down there hanging clothes on the line. I waved feverishly, but I knew she didn't see me. Still, what a thrill. This was my first clothesline memory.

The next clothesline memory involved not the clothesline, but the pins.  The old wooden clothespins were perfect for making figures for shadowboxes. I vividly remember a Christmas scene with Santa Claus and his elves, all made from cotton balls, red and green construction paper, glitter, and of course, the clothespins. I loved those old things, so simple yet so many uses.

Today was a holiday, the first hang of spring. I tied up the thin white string between my Macintosh and Red Delicious apple trees, got out the bag of clothespins and hung it from a branch. I ran to the basement, took Grandma's freshly laundered mint green sheets out of the washer and proudly carried them to the backyard. I was the first in the neighborhood to hang clothes this year. I carefully folded the sheets over the line so as to keep them from touching the ground. The sunlight hit those sheets and made them glow. As soon as the fitted sheet was up, it billowed like a sail, blowing back and forth in the breeze. The flat sheet cracked in the wind, crisp and proper. It was as though the sheets had been set free after years of captivity, fabric butterflies wildly dancing in the cool spring air.

Clothes hung on the line seem to soak up every beautiful scent in the air, from the flowers to the fresh mowed grass, to the rays of the sun. The scent weaves its way into every thread and never leaves. Tonight I will tuck myself into bed wrapped in a beautiful spring day, with the scent of honey and sunshine and Viburnum lulling me to sleep. Heavenly.

Women have been hanging clothes ever since time began. It is a tradition that is making a come back as folks are becoming more energy conscious. Did you know there are laws in many areas restricting clothes hanging, uppity folks claiming they are unsightly! Holy Moly, Mama Walton would have a hissy fit if she heard that one! Not to fear, there is a group to advocate for clotheslines. Project Laundry List is working hard to ensure everyone has the opportunity to hang their clothes on the line, and they promote air drying and cold washing as ways to save energy. Rest easy, Olivia. All is well.

So next time you do your laundry, wander out in your backyard, tie up a line, grab some pins, and enter domestic bliss. Imbue your clothes, towels, sheets, and undies with liquid sunshine. Its the closest thing to heaven I know.