The joy of hanging laundry
It is impossible to mimic the scent of Mother Nature no matter how many times man tries – he misses the mark.
There’s something about the smell of natural that cannot be manufactured in a laboratory. You know the smell of the earth warming in the spring, the scent of rain coming from a distance; and of course, the smell of sheets dried in the wind and sunshine.
It’s always a magnificent fragrance; one that cannot be duplicated no matter how hard we try.
While most folks would rather use the dryer; which in my mind uses electricity and yucky fabric softener, I hang my wash as often as I can outdoors. When the weather doesn’t cooperate I hang it indoors on a rack.
About the time the washer completes it cycle, the breeze picks up – perfect. Rather than tumbling in artificial heat my sheets flap and snap in the wind white-knuckling the clothes line as not to end up in the next county. In the end, the fabric is as soft and smooth as any dryer load.
Soft and smooth does not mean limp and full of Bounce – in the commercial sense of the word. Once wrapped around the mattress, this soft and smooth just feels different. In the end, though, it’s the smell.
Clean air-dried sheets calm you into thinking you are sleeping outdoors. Can’t say enough good things about the benefits of hanging your laundry.
My clothespin bag is recycled from a thrift store as are many of the pins. The fabric is faded but in the tradition of goods manufactured before 1970, it can be replaced. I have done that once and will do it again, cutting a pattern from the old bag.
When my mom prepared the basket of wet, freshly rung laundry for hanging, she would snap them into flat wet sheets. Next, she folded anything that was too large to hang single on the line and then carefully lay it into the basket in the opposite order that it would be pinned to the line.
Before hanging the wash, she would wipe the dust and bird poo off the lines and then one corner at a time, hang from one end of the line to the next.
As youngsters we used to run between the lines, much to her annoyance, pretending we had forts or playing hide-and-seek. Laundry was a huge chore in a family with five children and one that was not to be repeated but once a week if possible.
Washday was usually Monday and when questioning why, most folks thought it was so the one set of Sunday’s best clothes would be clean in the event of a middle-of-the-week wedding or funeral. Maybe just in preparation for next Sunday.
Oh the memories of wet clothes hanging in the house during the winter, barriers to a clear path through the kitchen.
Opps, let’s not go to winter yet – we have just received the gift of spring… time to go outdoors and enjoy.