The Clothesline

Cynthia Allen-Linck 07-10-08

Mom had four long lines on sturdy steel posts. We filled them up every week. The only time we used the dryer was if it was just too cold or too wet.

Saturday was wash day. We sorted the clothes into piles, gathered wayward items from our rooms and stripped the beds. As it all got washed we took it outside to the clothesline. Mom taught us how to conserve clothes pins and line space by clipping everything together - matching corners. When it was all hung up there was a solid "wall" on every line. The bedding hanging over the lines made a great place to hide and play.

At the end of the day we gathered everything off the line and took it inside. It was all crisp and fresh. Everyone knows how wonderful those line dried sheets smell! I loved to crawl into bed on Saturday night. The sheets felt cool and smooth.

Both clothesline poles were engulfed by honeysuckle vine. It smelled and tasted sweet. Each post had a wren house too that was full every spring. The wrens would scold us when we were putting the clothes out - or taking them in. They certainly weren’t afraid of us!

Southhampton, New York recently lifted a ban on clotheslines that has been in place since 2002. Seems some residents back then thought clotheslines made the neighborhood look shabby. Some residents ignored the ban and risked possible fines and jail time so they could hang their things on a line! The ban was lifted due to rising energy costs.

I admit I use the dryer more than I should - when I could be saving energy, saving money, and having great smelling sheets.

The Clothesline Said So Much
Author: Marilyn K. Walker

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 on the line;

You'd see the company table clothes

With intricate design.

The line announced a baby's birth

To folks who lived inside

As brand new infant clothes were hung

So carefully with pride.

The ages of the children could

So readily be 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 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 gray,

As neighbors raised their brows,

And looked disgustedly away.

But clotheslines now are of the past

For dryers make work 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!