Clotheslines...

Mama always had a clothesline wherever we lived. So did everyone else we knew. As soon as my arms could reach the line, hanging out the clothes became one of my chores. I didn’t mind it. The wet clothes smelled good and it was fun to make a tunnel by stretching the sheets over two lines. After all the other clothes were hung out, I could run through the sheet tunnel. Hanging clothes out in the winter could be tricky but usually, even on our coldest days, there was enough sun to dry them.
I did hate the pants stretcher, though. Someone invented a contraption that fit down in wet jeans and other pants to stretch them as they dried. Theoretically, this made them easier to iron. Practically, it took longer to get the stretcher in the jeans than it would have taken to iron them wrinkles and all.
There was an order to hanging out clothes. Every family had their own method and children learned to follow the patterns laid down by their mothers. No more than two socks to a clothespin. Underwear hangs from the waist. Link the clothes together with a shared clothespin. Pants hang from the waist as do skirts. Don’t pin red things to white things in case they fade. Hang colored things inside out so the sun won’t fade them. Don’t let anything touch the ground. Sometimes clotheslines would sag and a pole prop would be needed to follow this rule.
Bringing the clothes in was never as much fun for me as hanging them out partly because I hated to fold them. The clothes pins went back in the little bag that hung on the line. The sheets and towels, a little stiff, smelled of the sun. My children insisted that clothes dried at Grandma’s house also had a faint whiff of cow manure but I think they were prejudiced. City kids, they grew up with a dryer and wanted soft sheets and towels not stiff ones.
And now I have a clothes line again. Two metal poles built by my father long ago stand guard at the back of the house. Placement was crucial. The lines needed to be far enough away from the horse fence so curious equines couldn’t reach and nibble on clothes. Clotheslines are in again, a green alternative to power hungry dryers and I am a part of the avant guard. All things old are made new again sooner or later. Mini skirts and clotheslines...
It is hard to be uppity when all the kids on the school bus see your underwear hanging out on the line... humility is an under rated virtue. And, all the neighbors clothes flapping in the breeze gave us kids a chance to see everybody’s laundry (and underwear). Somehow clotheslines brought us together as a community. Driving by Miz Barnes house as she was hanging out clothes, we waved and listened to the adult conversation about her boys and their farm. Washing days varied from family to family but the sight of wash hanging out seemed to start conversations about relationships and families.
I need a clothesline for my soul, a place in the sun to hang out all the stuff I am working on. Hanging out on the line, others can see what is going on with me. This blog is my spiritual clothesline in many ways. I don’t always hang things out neatly but they flap in the breezes of your responses. Good church is another place where I can hang out some of my laundry to dry. I look around and see other clotheslines full of soul work. We could all use some clothesline time... hanging up and out, bringing in the laundry, seeing what is going on with our neighbors and friends, standing in the outdoors away from appliances that need repairmen.
Wouldn’t you know it? The first day with my new clothesline and it is cloudy and rainy. I will have to wait until tomorrow to hang out my laundry. Oh, well. Patience is another virtue I need to learn.