I still remember the smell of getting into my small bed with fresh sheets and blankets dried in the sun, the clothespin bag my mother kept near the back door made to look like a woman's apron, and the time my mother had to rewash my quilt because she said "A dirty bird did something on it!"
My sister tells a funny clothesline story about my 2 brothers. Vince, probably 16 at the time, once used my mother's clothesline to hogtie Dave, 4 years his junior. Then he wrapped the line around and around the dining room table, tying knots as he went along, then out the front door to the telephone pole before winding it back inside. After he was done he went away with his friends, leaving Dave lying on his stomach, hands and feet hopelessly bound, unable to free himself. My sister arrived home and found her captive youngest brother begging her to cut the rope to which she replied, "I can't, it's mom's good clothesline!" My mother was so committed to hanging clothes that she would take her "good" line inside after every use to protect it from the elements. My sister slowly untied the knots and freed my brother while saving the clothesline.
I've lived in 4 different homes since I married Tony and I've always found a way to hang a clothesline outside somewhere, even if it meant wrapping it around trees or porch railings. Currently I use a retractable line that goes from my porch to the garage. I also have 2 lines strung in my laundry room so I can hang clothes winter and summer.
My boys asked me one time when they were in elementary school, "Why can't we just put clothes in the dryer like everybody else?" as we were lugging heavy basket after basket of clothes out to the yard to hang. I don't remember what my answer was, but I guess it's just in my blood.
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