Unlike many of my friends, I have countless warm memories of my grandmother's clothesline. In the summer, she would wash her clothes in the old wringer washer out in the "wash house." I loved that wash house. It was really a shed, painted the same dark red as the barn and the chicken coop, and it held so many old treasures that I loved rummaging through: old advertisement signs for motor oil, coca cola (my grandpa owned a bike shop) and more; old glass bedpans (my grandmother never let any of her elderly relatives languish in a nursing home); old tools, dishes and more. I miss that old shed!
But what I miss the most are the memories of washing clothes with Grandma. She even made her own lye soap, and the clothes came out of that ringer gleaming and stiff.
We would wipe off the clothes line, and hang up the clothes. I had a little apron to wear that held the clothes pins. Grandma even embroidered a clothes pin bag that hung on a hanger. Everything was special in those days.
Sometimes it was a race with the clouds to get the clothes off the line and into the house before the sky exploded with sweet summer rain. It was always my job to rescue the clothes and I relished it. It made me a heroine in Grandma's eyes.
There was nothing like sliding into Grandma's sun-drenched sheets, all stiff and clean and welcoming after a long hard day of caring for chickens, weeding the garden, snapping beans and picking cherries.
I haven't had a clothes line most of my married life and I miss it. I remember when my kids were babies how much I enjoyed being out of doors, hearing the birds sing, listening to my babies laugh in the laundry basket as I hung up the clothes or gathered them in. There's something centering about those menial chores. Sure, it took longer, but it gave a person time to think. It gave a person a chance to smell the nurturing sweetness of a Mom and Grandma and the sun that shone from God's blue sky.
As you know, I love hokey poems. Here's the poem that reminded me of those precious days with Grandma!
The Clothesline Said So Much
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 cloths
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.
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!
Author: Marilyn K. Walker
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