Wow, 47-degrees. How could one not take advantage of a day in December with weather warm enough to hang the laundry on the line.
Why would anyone do that?
There’s something about the smell of nature 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 is impossible to mimic the scent of Mother Nature, no matter how many times man tries – he misses the mark.
This magnificent fragrance can’t be duplicated, no matter how we try.
While most people would prefer using the dryer, in my mind, it uses electricity and unpleasant fabric softener. So, 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 of morning when the washer completes its cycle, the breeze picks up. It’s perfect. Rather than tumbling in artificial heat, my sheets flap and snap in the wind, white-knuckling the clothesline to avoid ending up in the next county.
I did find some tremendously sturdy recycled pins at Lehmann’s online. Of course, no clothespins ever invented have been a match for some of the famous North Dakota “breezes” we have come to enjoy. In the end, it is this very wind that makes the fabric as soft and smooth as any dryer would.
Soft and smooth sheets do not mean limp and full of “Bounce” – in the commercial sense of the word. Once wrapped around the mattress, this soft and crisp fabric feels different. In the end, though, it’s all about 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.
Even in the winter. Oh, winter’s air permeates sheets with an unmatched smell of freshness. The sun is closer to Earth, here in the northern climes, and it purifies as it dries.
When tolerable, as in the last few days, Mom hung her wash outside. When Mom prepared a basket of wet, freshly rung (think wringer washing machines) laundry for hanging, she would snap everything flat. Next, she accordion-folded it as she laid it in the basket.
Organizing the wet clothes made it simple to quickly grab a corner and pin each piece to the line, overlapping each piece slightly as she moved along the wire tightly strung between the two metal “t’s” in the backyard. In the winter, I try to do this to my sheets so I can quickly hang them.
Before hanging the wash, she would wipe the dust and bird poo off the lines. Ever heard Leonard Cohen’s Bird on a Wire.
We used to run between the lines as youngsters, much to her annoyance, pretending sheets were 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, if possible, more than once a week.
Washday was usually Monday. When questioning why most folks I interviewed for my book projects on traditions of the Germans from Russia, it was a consensus that Mondays were washdays, so the single set of Sunday’s-best clothes would be clean in the event of a middle-of-the-week wedding or funeral.
Maybe it was just in preparation for church next Sunday.
Now, with winter zig-zagging its way to Christmas with 40-degree days separating the various snow events, I think about the way winter used to be.
I have warm memories of wet clothes hanging in the house, creating a cloud of humidity over the kitchen table, and the smell of fresh bread baking in the oven. Tights, corduroy pants, shirts, coats, socks, mittens, scarves, hats and boots, and off to school we went. We could walk the gravel road or cut across a field, snow filling our boots with each footfall.
Life was simple then. Unplugged from electronic distractions December was filled with anticipation, school programs, church programs, trips to see the grandparents and the many cousins, enjoying those treats we only tasted during the holidays. There were few presents, but more presence and that is how we knew we were loved.
INDYchildrendotme 
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