Back-in-Time Clothesline

I have good news and bad news.

The good news is that I now have a clothesline and I love it.  I love the wicker basket, the canvas pin bag and the wooden spring clothespins.  I love spending  extra time outdoors.  I love the smell of sunshine on my sheets. I love listening to the birds as I pin the laundry to the line.

I do not love fighting the mosquitoes. But that everyday nuisance is a fact of life in Florida.

The appearance of this old-timey appliance is the result of my dear husband’s  reluctant cooperation and my huge effort toward getting the essential pieces/parts. I had to be assertive with the “associate” who “helped” me at the local home improvement store.   He seemed unable to understand the ancient term “clothes line.”

Elin Kleopatra Danielson-Gambogi (Finnish painter, 1861-1919) A Sunny Day.  Yes, clotheslines have been around for a long time.

First, I was shown a pricey, boxed, umbrella style contraption that likely required two burly, certified installers.  Next up was a high tech  mechanically engineered retractable cord.  When I finally made myself clear–“I NEED A ROPE!”—the perplexed young man asked, ” Why? Would you like to see our dryers?”  grrrrrr…….

The whole process started as I was laundering some  antique textiles to include in kits for the lacy crazy  patch class I was teaching for Sewing at the Beach in Myrtle Beach.  (Does anyone know why some of my links are blue and others are not?)

As one load after another went from the washer’s gentle cycle to the dryer’s delicate setting, I recalled someone–Judith Dobson, I think–saying that every time you iron fabric,  its life is shortened by about 50 years.  (I wonder who makes these estimates.)  It seemed to me that the dryer must have a similar impact. Hummmm…Maybe I should get a clothesline!

It also occurred to me that not only would it extend the life of my textiles but it would also help the environment,  reduce our energy bill and take a tiny nick out of America’s energy problem.    So I put the request to my dear husband.

He didn’t oppose the notion.   But where would we put it, he asked?  We have 3 acres, I reminded him.  Surely there is some small patch of turf where we could string a rope between two trees.   He agreed to put it on his to-do list.

My guy is an engineer who prefers to begin such tasks  AFTER detailed impact studies, lengthy calculations of long term advantages and disadvantages, careful cost analysis and estimates of manual labor hours.  Then there is his ever present defense of his John Deere’s inalienable right of unimpeded access to every blade of grass and weed in his domain.

But he is also extremely considerate and helpful with everything I do.  Knowing how I regularly schedule 28 hours of activities in every 24 hour day, he declared that my time was too valuable to be spent hanging out laundry. But I persisted.

Finally after completing extensive property surveys and feasibility studies, he found a suitable location.  At last, I have a clothesline.

There is more good news.  Clotheslines can stop a drought!  Texans take note— as soon as my clothes were basking in the fresh air, the rains began. This has happened again and again! In times of drought, this line is more effective than a rain dance or  dowsing with a divining rod.

A dowser, from an 18th century French book about superstitions.

The bad news?  After 6 weeks with an idle dryer and air dried clothes, Bob informed me that our nation is still dependent on foreign oil.  Maybe if I switch to cold wash water……..

  A Clothesline Poem (Anonymous)

A clothesline was a news forecast, to neighbors passing by.
There were no secrets you could keep when clothes were hung to dry.
It also was a friendly link, for neighbors always knew
If company had stopped on by to spend a night or two.
For then you’d see the “fancy” sheets and towels upon the line.
You’d see the “company tablecloth” with intricate design.
The line announced a baby’s birth, from folks who lived inside
As brand-new infant clothes were hung, so carefully with pride!
The ages of the children could so readily by known;
By watching how the sizes changed, you’d know how much they’d grown!
It also told when illness struck, as extra sheets were hung;
Then nightclothes, and a bathrobe, too haphazardly were strung.
It also said, “Gone on vacation now,” when lines hung limp and bare.
It told, “We’re back!” when full lines sagged with not an inch to spare!
New folks in town were scorned upon, if wash was dingy and gray,
As neighbors carefully raised their brows, and looked the other way…
But clotheslines now are of the past, for dryers make work much less.
Now what goes on inside a home is anybody’s guess!
I really miss that way of life – it was a friendly sign;
When neighbors knew each other best by what hung on the line.

a laundry ad in an old Needlecraft magazine